Batyushka: Book One
by knymommabear
Summary: This is a story of a young mother named Batyushka, a Russian born Vladivostoksky citizen who has formed a family in a simple but beautiful village with her husband Ilyusha. This is a story of a mother whose life had been torn apart in a single night, and who, with the help of many tragic familiars, picks up the broken pieces of her heart and protects the innocent and the weak.
1. A Mother's Love

_Most chapters will have their own background music. I pick out the most fitting ones, ones that would match the ambient of the atmosphere and the culture of the characters._

_The following chapters are based in Russia, so let me introduce you to some beautiful Orthodox chants ;u;_

_For this chapter:_

_**Shukh - Silent Prayer**_

...

A small, white-coated house on the edge of a hill could easily be seen in the thick snow. It was one of those rare days when a storm didn't howl through the barren lands of the Russian Empire, and if you stepped into the right spot, you could see an industrial town on one side, and an area of far apart houses on the other. On one side, life was a booming firework, on the other a quiet, forest-hilled land, where the fireworks could only be heard as a distant echo.

Batyushka preferred the distant echo. At nights, if the air wasn't unbearably cold, she would take a stroll through the pathway made by other villagers, enjoying the crunching echoes of snow and the occasional wind, like she did now. Batyushka huddled into her coat when a stronger breeze came by, but not because of herself.

"Мой мальчик… my baby boy." she dotted her baby, nuzzling his nose into the softness of her furry coat so he wouldn't be cold. He was a year old now, and a splitting image of his father. The only thing of hers he had was the colour of her eyes, a vibrant green.

"I'd say it's time for use to go home, little Bok." Batyushka kissed the top of her son's dark head and turned towards the house on the hill.

Meters away from the house she heard her husband's axe furiously hacking away the firewood. He was a diligent worker for a woodsman, even in the evening hours.

"You should come to bed soon Ilyusha. I don't want you to strain yourself too much."

"Just have to cut Alinka's firewood and I will be with you shortly." Ilyusha wiped the sweat from his brow and kissed the top of Batyushka's head for goodnight, a serious expression never leaving his face. He was always serious, his frown frozen in place, but Ilyusha's actions spoke volumes. Whether he cut wood for longer hours, or went on a longer trek to Vladivostok for better supplies for her and Bok, he was a man who gave all his time for his family. "Sleep well, Batyushka."

Batyushka loved him for the honest man he was. Smiling, she first placed Bok in his wooden crib next to their wheat and wool covered bed. She covered him with two blankets, in case the night got too cold and the furnace didn't warm the room enough.

"Sleep well my darling." Bok gurgled one last time before turning with a snore.

Batyushka undressed to her evening gown, a woollen garment, and snuck under the covers. To a Vladivostoksky citizen, the bed would be rough and tough. She'd know, she was once one, but this bed, this whole house, was the most comfortable place in all of her 20 years of life.

She was barely awake when Ilyusha joined her and took her into his chest, and in return, she wrapped her arms around his waist. She loved the sound of his beating heart, it lulled her to sleep.

"Tomorrow I'm free of woodwork, and Badyak is going to the city with his wagon. He's willing to take passengers." Ilyusha played with the end of Batyushka's long braided hair. He did that whenever he was in thought. "We could keep Bok with my babushka*, and go out. It's been a year…"

True, ever since the birth of their son, Bok was all Batyushka saw. He was hers, to care for, to keep company, to scold, to keep happy. "Hm…" She was drowsy, but tiredness couldn't push away the feeling of worry from her gut. That subconscious protectiveness she had ever since she became a mother. "He is still so young… maybe, in spring. I want him to see the city with us."

"I knew you would say that." His chest vibrated from his chuckle. "You really are a mother bear."

"Every mother should love her child." Batyushka said in her defence, but she couldn't deny the truth. Nothing was more important to her than her baby boy, and the man that made it all possible. "… I'll think about it. Since you offered so nicely. But for now, let's sleep."

"Whatever you say, wife."

Soon followed his peaceful snores, and soon her own.

She wouldn't give this peaceful life for anything.


	2. How Could There Be Tragedy?

_Chapter song:_

_**Choirs of St. Elisabeth - Wreath over Water**_

_I recommend listening to it as soon as Batyushka starts singing :)_  
_And I recommend stopping the songs somewhere in the middle. Better effect, just a suggestion haha._

...

The next early morning, like all mornings, Batyushka woke up before Ilyusha. She checked her boy's crib before proceeding with her morning chores. First, she made baby food – a mixture of wheat and goat milk to make porridge for Bok, and put it in the pantry of their little fireplace. They didn't have electricity like the city, but Ilyusha cut enough firewood to last them at least two years of Soviet winter, if not more.

"венок на воду … Venok na vodu…" she hummed to herself, loud enough for her two loved ones to wake up to a song if they wanted to in the one-room cottage. But they didn't, only getting Ilyusha's snore as a response, so once she prepared everyone's breakfast and put it inside the pan of the fireplace, she dressed in her thickest, warmest clothes, kissed both foreheads, and walked outside.

The first thing she did was take two iron buckets and went to their small barn. They had a few chickens, a rooster, three goats, and another was soon to come.

"Morning, Baschka. How are you feeling?" She giggled when the mother goat bleated. "Yes, you're tired with that extra weight. I was too. But you will see soon, it's all worth it…" she patted her stomach and went to the other goat.

"You're not pregnant yet, so I'm milking you." Batyushka laughed because she was sure the goat glared at her.

The male goat was lying in the wheat, eating it as lazily as always.

"You make sure to impregnate Ludimila as well. Otherwise we'll have to send you to Damyan's farm." He tossed his head aside, sparing Batyushka little mind.

She put the buckets aside, opened the barn door and let the goats and chickens outside to the yard. She picked up the eggs and put them in a wooden box before following the animals outside. Batyushka struggled to keep the yard clean from snow for at least a little grass to grow for the goats, so every morning, afternoon and evening she'd shovel it and put it in the water bin.

She shovelled around the house as well, so the snow didn't sink into the wood too much. After that, she put the goats back in the barn and closed it before returning to the house.

"Morning Ilyusha." Batyushka was amused each time she saw Ilyusha's usually serious disposition slacked and drooled.

"Hn… Eggs."

"Yes, eggs. Come darling." She went to wake up Bok before joining her husband at the table. It all came so natural, to care and feed her babe and baby.

Their morning was a reoccurring ritual. Ilyusha then left to deliver the cut firewood to Alinka, while Batyushka played with Bok and taught him to speak. He loved it when they went to the barn and he could point at and play with the goats.

"коза… goat!"

"Da da, goat!" Nothing made her happier than seeing her baby boy grow.

When Ilyusha returned, he brought gifts from Alinka and his grandmother.

"Babushka wants us to visit soon."

"We will darling, after the storm."

The storm lasted longer than they expected. Bok whimpered when the windows shook, and cried whenever a particularly bad current banged against the door.

"There there, darling…" Her voice eventually calmed Bok enough for him to fall asleep.

"This winter will be worse than the previous. I can feel it." Ilyusha grumbled, cutting at a wooden piece with a small carving knife. On the right was a shelf filled with his figurines, and one was displayed in the centre, a figurine of Batyushka holding little Bok. It was his favourite.

"We will survive." Batyushka could have said 'we have each other', but things never were like that in the Russian winter. Last year, Ilyusha's cousin Ivanko died from a fever, leaving behind his wife and daughters. Batyushka realises that could have easily been her role. "We will only go out when we really need to."

"No going to Vladivostok, then." He lay on the bed and patted his side. "Get over here."

"Alright." She lay Bok next to Ilyusha, and the husband raised his eyebrows. Batyushka laughed. "If you think I'm leaving our boy alone in his crib in the middle of a storm, you don't know this momma bear."

That night, Bok slept soundly between his two guardians. Circled in his parents' arms, a barrier like nothing could get between them.

…

If only Batyushka hadn't kept all of her attention on her boy. If only she'd gone to the barn an hour later. Because in the dim light of their fire, she would have spotted a pair of red eyes staring at her loves through the thick glass window.


	3. How Could It End Like This?

_Well, things are about to turn really bad._

_I REALLY RECOMMEND YOU LISTEN TO THIS MUSIC LIKE-_

_Recommended time for fast readers - 7:15_

_Slower readers - 5:20_

_**Arvo Part - Salve Regina**_

...

When Batyushka woke up, it was in the middle of the night. Bok was gurgling in his sleep, like always, almost as if trying to imitate his father's snores. But that wasn't what woke her up.

She lay back down and closed her eyes. She listened to the quiet crackling of fire and noticed it was a bit cold in the room. Was that why she woke up? Slowly dragging herself out of bed, expecting to be dizzy from drowsiness, Batyushka was surprised to find herself fully rested.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She shivered, but she also began to sweat.

"I must be getting a fever…" Batyushka won't lie she was a bit worried of getting sick. She got up to the fireplace and added a few logs. She sighed at how heavy her arms were.

"It must be a cold… I'll just lie back, I'll be better tomorrow-" She looked up from the fireplace, through the window.

The barn door was open.

Did she forget to close it? She always closed it. Batyushka broke out in cold sweat, and had this urge to wake up Ilyusha.

No, she'll keep him rested. Tomorrow he has to go woodcutting again. He'll be grumpy if she wakes him for something as minor as going outside and closing the barn.

This part of Russia didn't have wolves, the industrial town and hunters made sure of that. Before going outside, Batyushka took the table lantern.

The snowstorm ceased. Flakes fell down from the dark sky, which gave off an eerie feeling. Strange, she usually really liked how the flakes fell.

"No paw prints…" she sighed in relief, going to the small wooden barn, the door half open so she couldn't see inside. She was now only a few feet away, and that's when she noticed them.

Bare footprints.

"A poacher..?" It could have been one. Or it could have been someone homeless, taking shelter in her family barn. Batyushka couldn't ignore the tight feeling in her chest, and she didn't even notice she held a heavy iron shovel in her bare hand before entering the barn.

The air outside was so cold she couldn't smell anything but frost, but in the barn, it was slightly warmer, barely from the opened door.

Batyushka smelt the faintest scent of blood. The deeper she got, the heavier that scent became. She was afraid to speak, afraid to breathe, and feared the shovel in her hand wasn't enough to protect her. She shakily took out her pair of keys from her coat pocket, unlocked the metal chest near the entrance, and took out Ilyusha's axe.

"…Baschka?" she whispered when she spotted the silhouette of her pregnant goat. Batyushka came closer, the grip on the axe tightening when she saw a large gash in the goat's swollen stomach. The stomach was emptied of her baby. This made Batyushka cling to her own stomach.

"What… what did this?" 'Who did this?' She quickly remembered the bare footprints in the snow. Why? She placed the lantern in the centre of the barn, and saw it all.

All the animals were dead. The other two goats lay on their sides, their throats slit from mouth to their chests with claw marks. Batyushka didn't need to look long to spot the few chickens they had torn and thrown about the barn floor.

"… I-Ilyusha… I need to wake Ilyusha-"

As soon as she heard a loud, ear-piercing crash of a window and Ilyusha's scream, her vision went dark. Batyushka didn't know how she got back to her house, didn't feel the weight of the axe in her arm even though she knew it was there, tight in her grip until her knuckles went white. What she noticed, though, was the puddle of blood beneath the crashed window of their house, a limp body of a man dangling on the pierced edge of the frame, and Ilyusha's head barely holding itself attached to the neck. Time seemed to slow down for her as she ran past him, torturing her with the image of her dead husband and how lifeless his eyes were.

_ 'Smile for me, my darling Ilyusha. We shall survive this winter, and the next.'_ Batyushka's eyes stung from tears.

She ran into the house, unable to fathom the nightmare that was before her.

Their once white sheets were gored with the ugliest red she had ever seen, and pieces of flesh lay strewn about the floor and beneath a kneeling man, whose feet were bare and bloody. He turned around showing off his canine teeth and red, beast-like eyes, one darker than the other. He… it growled, clutching a piece of a red, shiny substance in its claw like hands.

"… B-Bok…?" Batyushka's voice cracked and she did the only thing that seemed sane to her at that moment. She felt so heavy, as if her legs were tied down by boulders. She walked forward, only seeing the pale face of a child that was no older than one.

That couldn't possibly be her boy? But Batyushka's vision turned black again, when she saw a dot beneath the blood stained face. The birthmark she kissed every night.

Batyushka didn't hear herself scream. She didn't feel the monster's claws cutting deep into her shoulder, and didn't see its teeth going for her neck.

She just swung. She swung, and swung, and swung until the handle of the axe broke. Even then, she took the axe head, her fingers cut open for gripping the sharp metal so hard, and slammed down against the monster's head. She didn't stop even after its face became unrecognizable. She didn't stop even after its head was clearly decapitated from its body, and even after she heard every bone in its torso break. She stopped only when the axe head fell from her battered hands and she had no more strength to hold it.

"Ah…" Batyushka reached for the boy, her vision blurry from tears. "Bok…" She took his body from its claw like hand, and stared at him in disbelief. She must be hallucinating. This isn't real. It can't be real. "My baby…!"

Batyushka choked on tears and blood as she pressed her baby against her chest. She was unable to cry out, unable to comprehend the situation before her, unable to tell if he was alive. Her instincts just kept screaming at her to keep her boy safe. He was alive. He had to be.

Batyushka didn't move until she saw the body she battered moving again. The sight of a half-headless, broken-ribbed corpse and a gurgling growl snapped her out of her shock. This was a nightmare. Batyushka had to run away from her nightmare.

She hurriedly wrapped Bok beneath her coat and ran out of the house, into the darkness of winter. She sprinted into the open fields, across the stone bridge and towards the nearest house. She thought it was the nearest, Batyushka didn't know what the right direction was anymore. But she felt the pain in her shoulder now, and her survival instincts finally kicked in. A monster attacked her home, and now it was at trying to kill her and her baby.

"Help! We've been attacked! Help!" She screamed. Batyushka was exhausted, the heavy snow making her muscles cramp. Her lungs never stung so much before, and the pain in her shoulder felt like boiling water splashing over her bare skin, over and over again. But she could hear rapid footsteps closing in on her, and she didn't dare look back at the headless monstrosity that was chasing after her and her baby.

That's right, she had to keep her baby safe. At least get to the nearest house and then run. Maybe the beast will only chase after her.

There was a small but steep hill at the edge of the village. Batyushka only had a little more before she reached the first house, and she crawled through the tall snow, trying her best to not tumble over.

"AGH!"

Batyushka felt her body shut down for a split second at the horrible pain on her back and neck, from where she was slashed. The monster growled behind her as she climbed even faster. It grabbed her ankle and squeezed with a deadly force, but Batyushka, with a desperate cry, kicked it in its headless neck, and it tumbled down the hill with her boot in hand. She scrambled herself atop and didn't give herself time to breathe. She knew if she rested now, she'd fall over.

"Help…! Someone… my baby!" Batyushka went to the nearest house. She held her baby with one hand, to reassure herself he was still under her coat, and knocked with what was left of her strength. "I need help! Please!"

Soon, the room went alight, and the door opened to reveal an elderly woman with a dog. The dog's face was crunched in a growl for only a second before it whined and put its tail behind its legs.

"Batyushka-? What are you doing here? What happened, you're bloodied-"

"H-help… My… my son…." Batyushka's legs shook as she tumbled into the house. She was barely able to open her coat to reveal a limp Bok. She didn't hear what the old woman said. She doesn't think she knows her, because everything but her boy is a blank image. Is he alright? Is he alive?

The lady seemingly struggled to do anything. She kept looking between Batyushka and Bok before finally doing what the mother herself was afraid to. She placed her fingers on the boy's neck, closed her ear on his pale mouth, and stilled.

"… I'm sorry."

"W… what are you sorry for? Help him! Can't you see he's hurt!" she scrambled to his side and wanted to push the woman away.

"Batyushka… he's not… he doesn't even have a heart!" the old lady struggled to speak, her own voice wavering from grief.

Batyushka looked closely at her son. The area around his bare chest was darkened with a hole. His stomach was slashed. Worst of all, his once rosy cheeks were now covered in a crimson red, soaked with his tears.

Batyushka stepped back, out into the dark field. She gripped her shoulder and squeezed. When the pain seeped all the way to her brain and blood oozed out, she hoped she'd wake up from this nightmare. But she didn't, and she cried.

Her sobs could be heard throughout the whole village. Her body was filled with gashes and bruises, her fingers were stuck together from axe wounds and frost, but she never knew a heart could hurt this much.

She was pulled in by the old lady into a heavy hug, she felt her tears soaking her coat, but all Batyushka could do was stare at the tattered body of her little boy.

She took one foot forward and her knees gave in. Her head hit the stone floor.

She had no more will to stand, no reason to stay conscious.

Batyushka hoped it was all just a nightmare.

Tomorrow she would wake up, and everything would be alright.

...

_To those that have come to reading this far, thank you very much! I hope you've enjoyed, and more is soon to come. Feedback would be very much appreciated!_


	4. Wretch

_This is one of my favorite Orthodox chants._

_**Душа моя прегрешная**_

_(copy to listen on Youtube ^^)_

...

Batyushka opened her eyes, and she wished she never did.

The dim light of the fire was almost too much to bear. She couldn't think, and even when she tried to remember how she wound up in a bed that wasn't her own, it made her headache that much worse. She would have turned to the side, away from the light, if it weren't for the stabbing pain in her left shoulder.

"You're awake!" An old voice emerged from the only other room in the cottage, and Batyushka visibly cringed, covering her eyes with her arm. That was a mistake. She hissed when a sharp pain emerged from her elbow, and went all the way to her right shoulder, then to her left, then to her neck and head.  
"You must be in a lot of pain… You are badly hurt, so don't move."

She quickly realised everything hurt.

"Why am I here, babushka…?" At this point, Batyushka realised she was at her Ilyusha's grandmother's house. She noticed from the Slavic and protestant décor, and how she was one of the rare village women to still have her shelves filled with religious icons. It may have been the smallest frame, but Batyushka's chest tightened at the sight of mother Marie with her baby Christ.

"Babushka…?"

"I…" The elderly woman's hands were shaking. Batyushka wanted to comfort her, for it pained her to see the mother of her husband so distraught. But she noticed that her hands were shaking too. She barely had the strength to support herself on her good elbow.

"I'm so sorry Batyushka…" Babushka took hold of her hand and squeezed.  
The door of the cottage opened, revealing a large figure of another elderly person, his hand holding a finely polished axe.  
"It's not looking good, Balalaika." He grumbled, his voice rough from age and hoarse from sorrow. "Our men had looked all over for his body, but we couldn't find it even with the dogs-" he froze in place at the sight of Batyushka's conscious form. "You're awake?!"

"Be quieter you fool, can't you see the state she's in?" Babushka hissed at the man, her hand squeezing Batyushka's own tighter.

"Body…?" With her heavy headache, Batyushka struggled to even speak well. Her speech was slurred, and she could tell she was suffering from a heavy blow to her temple. But she had to wonder whose body the two were talking about.

"Poor soul, oh…!" Babushka hugged her. "It will be alright, please, just stay strong Batyushka."

What was she saying? Stay strong for whom? And why did she feel so weak and sick? Why was she so hurt?

"I'll keep searching for Ilyusha… keep her safe until I get back, Balalaika." said the man, she realised it was Ilyusha's father, Igor. At the mention of her son's name, babushka's hand squeezed tighter. The door closed, leaving the two women alone.

"How much do you…" the elder woman coughed, trying to wipe away her tears. "How much do you remember? Of last night?"

"I…" Batyushka's mind had never been so blank before. She stared at her mother in law, blinking rapidly and unable to process the usually tough woman crying like she did. "I don't…"

"You must be in shock… I should not ask you these things right now. Here, try and drink this." She offered her a wooden bowl of warm soup, it must have been her specialty because it brought a pleasant feeling to Batyushka's growling stomach.

"Thank you… but I can't." she remembered she left her soup in the pan to heat yesterday. She'd hate for it to get spoiled. "I still have some left at home. Besides, Ilyusha and Bok must be worried for my wellbeing…"

Batyushka was shocked when babushka hugged her again, this time much tighter.  
"No, no, you cannot go back, not now…!"  
Why was she keeping her away from her baby and husband? Batyushka didn't like this at all.

"If it's because I'm hurt, I will manage-" She rubbed her throbbing temple and slowly got out of bed, making sure not to move her shoulder too much, wobbling to her bare feet. She noticed one foot was a tad redder than the other… and where was her other boot? "May I borrow your shoes? I seem to have lost one… I promise I'll return them to you shortly, I do have another spare at home…"  
"I can't-" Babushka's voice cracked, and she leaned against her table for support. Her wrinkly face was shiny from tears and all of her tough exterior was replaced by a broken sob. She gasped between her words, and each word made Batyushka's heart sink further and further.

She wondered why she felt so lost and confused.

"Your home had been attacked – Last night, you sought help, you were so bloodied and beaten, and Bok-" babushka was catching her breath, but Batyushka could hardly breathe. "I-I placed him in a safe place, and cleaned his body while you were unconscious-"

Batyushka limped into the other room. She didn't know where else to find her baby boy, if he wasn't in this room, he had to be in the other one.

In the makeshift crib of a box, the one Bok slept in whenever she and Ilyusha would visit babushka, lay a lacy white bundle of cloth. Batyushka came closer and barely stopped the shaking of her hand enough to pull down the blanket. The first thing she noticed was the resting face of her adorable boy. It was too pale. She pulled the blanket further down.

"-he doesn't even have a heart!"

Bok didn't have a heart.

The tragic events of last night hit Batyushka like an avalanche. She knew she was screaming, she could tell it apart from the loud ringing in her ears, but all she really felt and heard were the screams of Ilyusha, and the monster eating out the life of her baby boy. What she saw now was the empty shell of her love.

Her baby was dead.

Batyushka ran out of the house and followed the pink droplets of her and Bok's blood back to her home. She didn't hear babushka's begs to come back. Unlike yesterday, when the urge to protect her baby was so grave she was willing to run over mountains to keep him safe and was able to ignore the pain, Batyushka felt every nerve of her body stabbed. Her throat hurt from breathing in so much cold air, and her shoulder cracked under the stress of the sprint.

The sight of her shambled house surrounded by hunters and guards was enough to make her topple over.

"Batyushka! You… you shouldn't be here." Said another man, throwing his shovel aside to place his coat over her shivering form. She knew he was her friend, she could tell from the familiar pitch of his voice. She just wasn't able to tell his face from her blurred vision.  
She was bare-footed, and although her whole body was absolutely aching, she'd welcome that pain over the one in her chest. It hurt so much.

"W-where is he… Ilyusha!" She already lost her precious baby. She knew she was the most wretched example of a mother, to let her boy slip so easily out of this world. How could she? How could she let such an innocent life die so easily? "Where is my husband!?"

_'Don't take Ilyusha away too.'_ But Batyushka feared that the images of her beheaded husband were not just hallucinations.  
The men looked at each other, then at the man with the black fur cap. He walked to Batyushka, and offered her his hand.

"I will show you." It was Cossack Dragomir, Ilyusha's best companion. Even his rough face and thick eyebrows couldn't hide his teary eyes.

Batyushka followed him behind her home, and he stopped her from proceeding.

"I'll be frank. Ilyusha… is dead. If you wish to see his remains, I will show you the way."

Batyushka didn't know how else to respond than to sob uncontrollably.

She accepted Cossack's help, because she knew she didn't have the strength to walk by herself anymore.

In a hole, dug like a mutt digs its new marking place, lay her lover's head. Ilyusha's dead eyes stared into her own.

_'Why did you leave me and your baby? Look at us now. We are dead, and you are alive. You could not protect us. You cannot protect anything.'_


	5. Pain

_Recommended song:_

_**Novospassky Monastery Choir - A Mercy of Peace**_

_(i cried)_

* * *

Batyushka thought she knew pain.

She thought that because she had an absent father and a horrible mother. Not horrible in a sense that she was beaten or neglected, no. Her mother was a wonderful person, great to converse with and good company. She was just a bad mother. She never had time for her daughter, too busy with making free time for her city-friends.

"I'm hungry, mom…" she remembered a scene of herself as a ten year old girl. Her mother flipped her gorgeous hair and fixed her earrings. The beautiful woman only turned around enough to smile the kindest smile.

"Don't worry sweetie, I'm sure your father will have something to eat once he gets back."

Hours upon her father's return, Batyushka asked him the same question. She could even remember how much her stomach hurt.

"I'm hungry, papa…"

"Oh? I thought your mother made you something to eat…"

That night, Batyushka went to her room and learnt to cook herself.

Maybe she was being a brat. Born to a middle-class family, she was never cold, never truly hungry if she didn't want to be.

But what was a fancy table without people to share it with? She didn't care for pretty dresses and dolls – she wanted her parents. But she learnt quickly that what she couldn't get from them, she could fill the emptiness herself.

She would be the mother she always wanted.

Batyushka met Ilyusha when she was 16, and he 25.

He was a simple man in a simple, traditional suit in a city of complex dresses, looking for potential job offers. Batyushka was immediately intrigued by him.

They would get together on the field between Vladivostok and his village, and go for long walks. She loved his tales, and the peaceful life in his village. She met Balalaika and Igor fairly early into their relationship, and Batyushka realised what Ilyusha was planning. At 18, she was wed, and a year later she gave birth to Bok.

Her parents didn't object, but they didn't come to the ceremony. Batyushka tried not to think about such sad turn of events. She has her own family to care for.

She had her own family to care for.

Batyushka stared with barely opened eyes at Bok's empty crib, and her hand circled on the empty spot of the bed.

The funeral was too short. Bok and Ilyusha were buried in the village graveyard, next to their other relatives. The tombstones read:

**Ilyusha Pavlov** – (17.4.**1875**-20.11.**1905†**)

**Bok Pavlov** – (31.10.**1903**-20.11.**1905†**)

Batyushka barely remembered the priest from the funeral. His mournful psalms and words of condolences from villagers did nothing to soothe her shame and agony. She couldn't bring herself to look at Balalaika, because she didn't deserve to break into tears before the mother of her husband – not only did she let her own child die, she also abandoned the son of the dearest babushka.

The pain never left her, and it didn't numb even months after that faithful night. She didn't want it to. The emptiness and sorrow in her heart reminded her of her failure, and of her unforgivable mistake.

The voices in her head were loud and screeching, they haunted her. She wanted them to.

Why was she alive? Why was she alive and Ilyusha and Bok were dead?

Batyushka had no will to live anymore, but that would be too easy of an escape. She deserved this punishment. No matter how horrible her nightmares were or how much her body hurt from lack of nourishment, no matter how unbearable and overwhelming it was to sleep next to an empty crib and in an empty bed she would suffer until the end of her days.

Until her body gave out.

The worst times were when Batyushka found herself wandering the forest at nights, searching for the monster that stole everything from her.

Batyushka needed to blame something, anything to be able to survive in her isolation. She'd take out an axe, sometimes a useless shovel and wander the dark Russian forests, screaming at the top of her lungs for the demon to reveal itself, so she could kill it, or be killed by it.

Cossack and Igor would get her out of the forest, but after so many failed attempts of trying to save the grieving mother, they stopped searching for her.

"She's a lost cause. Her soul died with Ilyusha and her child." once said Igor to Balalaika, tossing firewood somewhere into the corner of Batyushka's cottage. He would occasionally visit her alongside Balalaika, but each time he was more impatient. "Look at her."

Batyushka looked at herself, and saw bony wrists, hands covered with scars and blisters. Her hair was greasy and unkempt. Her belt was loose around her waist, barely holding her skirt from slipping off.

"You imbecile, you talk like it's her fault! You have no say in how a mother feels about her lost child!" screamed Balalaika, her strict voice laced with emotions, and Batyushka thought she was going to puke from guilt again. It was clear the elder woman missed Ilyusha, he was her baby once too.

That evening, just before Balalaika and Igor left, Batyushka took hold of the babushka's sleeve and made eye contact with her for the first time in two years.

"What is it, Batyushka?" The babushka was so surprised by her sudden courage. But Batyushka slowly shook her head and let go of her sleeve.

"Igor was right, Balalaika. You can't save a wretch."

"Batyushka, you are not a-"

"No, Balalaika. I let your son die. I left him behind, and only thought of my own flesh and blood. Don't hide your hatred for me because of your kindness. Please," Batyushka stepped back into her home, and a tear fell down her emotionless face. "Forget about me."

Balalaika didn't deny what Batyushka said.

She would still visit her, if only to make sure the widow wouldn't starve herself to death. But Balalaika never smiled, because in her love and compassion hid a fury she couldn't express with words.

Because Ilyusha was dead, and Batyushka was alive.

* * *

A new character will be revealed in the next chapter... this is where the real fanfiction begins. :)


	6. Hiiragi

Silence was a painful, hateful thing.

Batyushka woke up to silence. Even though the sun shone brightly through the window, a rarity in the otherwise dark Russian winters, the room was still cold enough for skin to sting. She got up slowly to add a log from her small pile of firewood.

Her bones creaked from exhaustion and she sighed.

Yesterday she had another 'psychotic episode', as the villagers liked to put it. She went to the forest with an axe. For a good month now, she had only been taking an axe, something that with enough force could cut off a head, because she believed and swears she could sense a dark aura from deep within the forest.

_'Avenge Bok and Ilyusha. Avenge your family. The monster is in the forest. Chase it. Kill it.'_

Finally, after months, maybe years, the voices in her head started making sense and she welcomed their loudness because she had a will to do more than just lie in her bed and starve from grief and self-pity.

Years. It's been three years since that night. Bok would have been four years old. Just a few days ago was his birthday. Batyushka felt tears well up in her eyes at the thought again, but she quickly wiped them away.

Batyushka earned herself the nickname псих вдова – crazy widow, a cruel nickname that made her eyes sting even more. None of the villagers believed her when she finally mustered up the courage to tell them about the monster that killed her family, when she finally started blaming something other than herself.

"Poor woman, the tragedy had wiped her senses…"

"It must have been a bear! I've seen some on my hunting trips."

It wasn't a bear.

It was a demon. It had to be. She remembered how human it looked.

Batyushka hadn't gone to the village for a long time, fear, shame and grief keeping her from seeing the other children.

She savoured whatever food Balalaika brought her, whenever the babushka decided to come. Batyushka still couldn't understand why she hadn't given up on her, even though Balalaika despised her.

These depressing thoughts had become quite numb. Always present, she wasn't able to handle so much negativity.

Batyushka grunted when she got up to full height. Her head was always spinning, her knees always at the verge of giving out unless she was in the forest, looking for that 'demon'. Her house didn't have a mirror, but she could easily judge from her thin hands just how sickly she was.

Batyushka took a shovel, repeating her routine of shuffling snow from around the house. It's the least she could do for Ilyusha, keeping a home he was once so proud of from rotting away.

Opening the door, Batyushka was blinded by the sun. She had to cover her eyes from the brightness, and stayed that way for a long moment.

It surprised her how nice it felt. So warm. She couldn't even remember the summer sun being this warm.

But opening her eyes, Batyushka was surprise again, this time by an old man clad in black. He stood out like a sore thumb in the white sheet of her yard.

"… Hello…?" Batyushka held the shovel closer to her chest and walked forward, but not too close to the man. She was cautious, he was a trespassing stranger, and his silver sword could easily be noticed against his black attire, which covered him from head to toe, only revealing the light complexion of his face and hair. But when she made eye-contact with his icy blue hues, the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Waiting for whoever would make the first move. The elderly man grabbed the pommel of his sword, his expression calm and wise, but eventually he looked elsewhere. He strode to the barn door, and Batyushka swore he positioned himself the same way she stood on that faithful night.

"I thought so."

His voice was deep, rough and calm. What he said next made Batyushka estatic, something she hadn't felt in a long time.

"I sense the presence of a demon."

His accent was prominent, but his Russian was fluent.

Her breath hitched, and Batyushka thought she was going to cry from relief and disbelief.

"W-what did you say…?"

"There was a demon here. I can sense it. You sense it too, I can feel it." His spoke in a monotone voice, but there was also a lingering anger and sadness. He looked at Batyushka again, his every word like a choir to the empty space of her heart. "You are a victim of the demon's violence."

"Who are you?" Batyushka whispered and her shovel fell to the ground. She felt tears falling down her cheeks from so many emotions.

"My name is Hiiragi Daiki, I come from Japan." The man, Hiiragi, continued to walk around Batyushka's yard and stopped again before the fixed window where Ilyusha's dead body and decapitated head hung. "I came here to fulfill my duty as a demon slayer."

"Demon slayer… demon… Y-you don't… you mean you believe it was a demon? And I'm not crazy? This isn't another hallucination?!" Batyushka grabbed his shoulders and shook him desperately, afraid that he would vanish. Hiiragi stayed silent, his stoic face masking whatever emotion he was feeling, but his eyes displayed sorrow and sympathy Batyushka hadn't seen before – as if this man understood her pain, her loneliness, and above all, the guilt.

"I…" Batyushka hiccupped and did her best to compose herself. She picked up the shovel she dropped, put it next to the wall and opened her cottage door. "Please, come inside, I have some left over stew, if you have time..."

Hiiragi followed without a word.


	7. The Defender

_This is quite a long chapter, but it has to be, otherwise it won't be as impacteful._  
_Hiiragi is an old man._  
_The demon is a scum._

_I recommend listening to this lovely (creepy song)._

**_Kurotokage - Call To The Deep (2002) (Japanese Synth, Ritual Dark Ambient)_**

* * *

Hiiragi expected her cottage home to be as messy as herself – understandably so, clearly her form of survival's guilt revolved around starvation and paying little attention to her personal hygiene. But upon entering, he was surprised by how spotless her home was, but also minimal in furnishing. There was a large bed with an uncovered blanket - indicating the woman just woke up, despite it being midday - that stood alone in an empty square space. There was a table with three chairs, only one slightly moved with her clothes messily folded over it.

"P-please, make yourself comfortable…" He doubts she even realised the weakness of her voice. "A-also, I forgot to introduce myself… my name is Batyushka." Batyushka smiled weakly, her damaged smile stung Hiiragi's heart, and she wobbled to the fireplace, adding logs to warm up his promised soup.

"Thank you." Hiiragi very quickly decided it was best not to comment on such things.

He sat in silence, waiting for Batyushka to give him an steaming bowl and a wooden spoon. He couldn't help but observe her, and the damage that had been done by that demon's attack. Hiiragi didn't need to focus or use his senses to know she was a childless and widowed mother – an empty crib stood next to the right side of the double-bed. The right side of the bed looked neat, but unused. Hiiragi then noticed the scars on the exposed parts of Batyushka's body. There were many that were inflicted from nature and hard labour. A furious red line was stamped into her right palm, and he connected that with a woodsman axe placed near her bed. But the one that got his attention the most was a deep hole in the back of her left shoulder. Surely the tissue was healed, but Hiiragi had plenty of experience with scarring, from his own experiences and from the injuries of his comrades.

_'The demon's claws.'_

If he focused hard enough, he could still sense its lingering presence.

_'… she managed to survive the demon attack head-on?'_

"Here you go…" Hiiragi took the soup with a nod and sat down on the floor, next to the fire.

"You should eat too. I can hear your stomach growling."

"…" Batyushka stood awkwardly for a while, before sitting on the other side of the fireplace, facing him. If he wasn't so good at reading people's emotions, he'd say her eyes were cold. In reality they were distant, lost in the mental darkness she was experiencing.

"You say you come from Japan. How come you know our language, um…?"

Of course she would avoid the topic.

"Hiiragi." He took a sip of her soup and grunted. It wasn't that tasty, but it was warm. "My family has Russian roots. It's in honour of those roots that we learn the language and the culture from an early age." It would also explain his appearance – true, his hair turned white from age, but his eyes were blue, some say as blue as ice. As cold as his personality.

"Hiiragi…" she repeated, playing with the ends of her greasy, hip-length hair. "Is the soup not to your liking?"

"It'll do. I can't be a picky wanderer." He'd prefer Miso soup from his home-country. But right now, friendly banter was the last thing on Hiiragi's mind. He placed the empty bowl on the floor and looked at Batyushka, and this time didn't look away. He needed to observe her reactions, how well she was going to take in the information, and how severe her mental state truly was.

"I will be frank, and I want you to be frank." He decided he would make his gruff voice even gruffer. Batyushka listened carefully, and Hiiragi could hear her heart beating faster. "If you have questions, ask them. Otherwise I'll have to start from the beginning, of how that demon managed to escape to Russia-"

"Have you been in the village?"

Hiiragi wasn't expecting to be interrupted so suddenly. "Yes."

"They must have told you about me, about the 'crazy widow'." Batyushka looked at the ground, at him, at the wall. Her gaze was everywhere.

"They have." His sixth sense wasn't his only guide to Batyushka's home. The villagers made her hermit, lonely life clear to him, along with how 'unstable' she had become. How she scouted the forest with an axe or a shovel, how her once sweet voice turned hoarse from screaming, that she sounded like a 'witch', like Baba Yaga from the child's folk tale.

"Sometimes I wonder if I really am crazy. You see Hiiragi, I've had my fair share of hallucinations." She said it so nonchalantly. Had she accepted them? Hiiragi worried how severe her detachment from reality was. "Some were more severe than others. To wake up to the sounds of my crying son, only to look at an empty crib…" Her shoulders began to shake. "I still find it hard to believe you're real… A hunter who hunts demons… I'm going insane…" Batyushka was on the verge of tears.

"I am real." He made sure his voice and his grip on her shoulder were strong. "And I'm here to destroy the demon that killed your family."

Batyushka finally looked him in the eyes, and she sobbed. It was heart-wrenching to see a once bright person, mother and wife, to fall so deep into the pit of despair. Hiiragi squeezed her shoulder more, to reassure her he was still real.

"That won't bring them back…!"

Hiiragi had no idea what to say. Comforting her wouldn't do her any good, neither would being cold and tough.

_'A lost soul needn't be lost forever. All they need is guidance.'_

Those were the wise words of his father, whose spiritual presence was always there to guide Hiiragi whenever he felt lost, even in the most difficult times.

"It will not. So what will you do?"

It was such a simple question, yet it made Batyushka halt in shock. "Huh? W-what do you mean?"

"What are you going to do once the demon has died?" Hiiragi was certain he was going to kill it.

_'I can tell that bastard's demonic presence here with ease…'_ He subconsciously gripped the sheath of his saber to calm himself. Hiiragi looked calm, but in reality he was seething.

_'Four years… I've been chasing you for four years…'_

"Have you the will to continue living?"

Batyushka was so shocked from his questions that her tears completely stopped and her eyes shone in disbelief, anger, but Hiiragi was certain there was a glimmer of hope behind those light greens.

"… have I even the right to live?" Batyushka wiped her tear-stained cheeks and sniffed into her sleeve. To be asking guidance from a stranger must have meant she had little to no support over the past few years. Hiiragi's heart sunk at the image of a once bright mother losing her child in such a cruel way. "After what happened? I-I couldn't protect my husband, I couldn't protect my baby. What good am I, Hiiragi? Other than to suffer in my meagre existence…" She had to cover her mouth to stop herself from sobbing again.

"I don't undermine your tragedy, Batyushka. But I have seen many souls, young and old, who have suffered in the hands of the demons. Demons are a plague on this world. As a demon slayer, it's my duty to protect civilians from harm." The guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders too.

For it had been his mistake the demon escaped Japan in the first place.

"I'm sorry." Hiiragi did only what any sane person should do – he turned to Batyushka, went on his knees and bowed. "I'm sorry for failing you."

Hiiragi was a man of honour. Dare say prideful and stern, even from an early age, but it was his father that taught him to be respectful to those that have lost their dear ones, and that there was more honour shown through compassion than from anything else.

Hiiragi's shoulders were so heavy from grief, but besides killing demons, that was also his duty. He would take full responsibility for his mistakes, he had been and still would be cursed for them. He would die and go to hell for all the innocent lives that had been lost because of his mistakes. But he would keep on fighting, for that was his desire and duty as a demon slayer, and as a member of the Hiiragi family.

Batyushka stayed silent. Seconds passed and Hiiragi's head was still low, but then he heard her shuffle and felt her hands on his shoulders. Slowly, they both stood to their full height, and Hiiragi noticed, now that Batyushka wasn't as slouched as before, she was taller than him.

"Please don't blame yourself for my mistake, Hiiragi. If anything, I'm thankful."

"Thankful?" Hiiragi's eyes widened, as much as their sharp silhouette would allow them. "Why would you be thankful?"

"Before you asked me what I will do once the demon that killed my family and so many others, has died." as if still trying to cope with their loss, Batyushka closed her eyes and sighed heavily. Maybe, just maybe, that alone was a small step forward to forgiveness. "Honestly, I don't know. But I know what I want to do now. I want to help you kill it."

Hiiragi thought that was what she wanted. He could sense how determined she was. "I understand. But demons are powerful. This one in particular is special. I don't doubt if it found you, you would have been slaughtered in an instant-"

"But I'm alive." Batyushka's determination faltered and she hugged herself, looking away again in shame, but anger quickly masked that. "And when I go into the forest, I swear I can hear it…"

"How did you survive?"

Batyushka told him about that faithful night. She had to stop a few times to calm her frantic breathing and talk normally. Hiiragi could easily guess it was her first time speaking of the death of her son and husband in such a detailed and honest way. And although the demon slayer wished he didn't have to know these things, he needed to know everything. The more information, the easier it would be to find the target, especially from a survivor who had direct contact with it.

Minutes, maybe half an hour had passed. Hiiragi learnt Batyushka had a great memory. They went outside, where she showed him the pattern of the demon's attack, from the barn to the window. All of his assumptions from the first time he set foot on Batyushka's yard were made to be true.

_'It attacked from the roof. It waited for Baytushka to go to the barn before attacking her husband and child. It was like a tag game… it still is, it must know she's alive.'_

Hiiragi gritted his teeth.

_'That scum just loves games, doesn't it?'_

Although it was hard, Batyushka knew time was of the essence and that the demon had to be killed before it hurt anyone else.

They returned to her home and sat down at the table.

"… I remember a lot of red. Its eyes were really red. Bloody red…" She faltered again, tears flowing freely down her red cheeks. The red must have reminded her of her dead son in too vivid of an image, and Hiiragi hated himself for needing to ask how he was killed – _'his heart carved out'_. He had to know. Intelligent demons could form a pattern for killing.

And he remembers the countless corpses he saw during his four year chase - he was right to assume that the demon was the one who left them with a hole in their chest.

_'It has an appetite for hearts.'_

"What else, Batyushka?"

"The eyes were… different. One was darker than the other, But I don't really remember..." Batyushka looked as if she was trying to remember an unimportant detail, but that detail meant everything to Hiiragi. He gripped the edge of her table.

"This is very important, Batyushka. Think about the left eye. Was there a symbol in it?"

Hiiragi had to make sure his assumptions about this demon were true.

"…" She furiously wiped her tears again. "I… think. All I remember is red… but…" she furrowed her eyebrows. "I could see dots. Some strange lines. I can't form an image, when it looked at me, I don't exactly remember how it attacked…"

"Look at this." Hiiragi took his sword and unsheathed enough to reveal a symbol he had carved into the metal a long time ago.

守備

"Do these symbols remind you of anything?"

Batyushka sat frozen in place. "I remember now. One eye was darker. I saw it in my dreams so many times, it was staring from the shadows. I know one eye had a mark," she pointed at the second letter. "but I never knew what it meant."

Hiiragi thought his heart was going to burst.

_'Calm your breathing, or else it'll notice you're here.'_ he told himself, keeping his presence as minimal as possible. "I knew it. That scum was one of the _twelve demon-moons_ all along."

"Demon-what?" Hiiragi stood up and paced around, and Batyushka followed him. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It's very bad."

_'How many humans has it eaten in the past four years?'_

"But at least now you've made my assumptions clear – I know what I'm facing is a lower-moon. Now I know why it took me so long to find that bastard." Hiiragi dressed back into his black, fur-lined haori and went for the door.

"W-wait, I want to help!" Batyushka scrambled for her own coat and Hiiragi wondered how such a malnourished body could run like that. It surprised him even more at how she gripped her axe – it was a double-handed woodsman's axe, and she picked it up with one hand, holding it up with ease.

_'Interesting…'_

"There's nothing you can do," he said, making his voice gruffer to hide his sympathy. "you'll only be an inconvenience."

"I know this forest! I've searched all the caves! The villagers said the piles of bones were left by a bear…" Batyushka shook her head. "But I know it's that demon's doing! Y-you said you can sense it – I can too! It's in the forest! Right there!" She pointed behind him, where dark spikes of trees shadowed over the white-coated ground.

No wonder the villagers thought she was crazy, with those wide eyes brimmed red from crying and sleep deprivation, and the way she held that axe, as if it was the only thing keeping her within reality.

But Hiiragi also knew she was special. Her memory was great, along with a sixth sense Batyushka herself was barely aware of.

"I remember flakes falling… the air was heavy, and I began to sweat… I knew something wasn't right." was what she told him. The way she described that particular scene made him wonder just how good of a sixth sense she had.

But to him, what he can feel is the darkness and malice radiating from within the forest, even at daytime. He can't concentrate on a specific location, the bloody aura is spread everywhere.

"Please, Hiiragi. Let me do this…!"

"Your presence is too strong." He spoke calmly, his gaze so serious that it made Batyushka flinch. "The demon we're facing has the ability to manipulate its presence, and it can sense others' presence. Yours is very strong."

"It feeds off of your grief, pain and hatred. I've no doubt the demon enjoys the way you scream, for it to observe you and not kill you. It's all a game."

"I-I don't understand…"

"And if you stay by my side, it will find us. I must stay hidden, Batyushka." Hiiragi doubts she understand anything that he's saying.

_'I've been chasing that bastard for too long to mess this up.'_

Batyushka stood at the entrance of her door, her axe still in her right hand. Hiiragi took a deep but concentrated breath, readying himself to dash into the forest, when he heard Batyushka run to his side.

"I'll be the bait."

Hiiragi stayed silent and let her speak.

"If that demon is as infatuated by me as you deem it to be, then it'll reveal itself. It has to be in the trees, I see no other way, because I never spot any footprints."

He wanted to stop her foolish idea, but she wouldn't let him.

"I don't understand what you mean by sensing my presence, but if it's going to get that demon's attention, I'll make sure I'll be all it sees. You'll hide, wait until it shows itself. Then you kill it."

Hiiragi stared at her, thinking about her proposition. The idea wasn't a horrible one – in fact it was genius. He could keep watch of the terrain while Batyushka made herself exposed. He had no doubt he could spot the demon that way.

But how could he endanger an innocent woman?

"That's suicide. It could take you hostage."

"And you will slice it in half. Weather I'm hostage or not." Batyushka frowned, her eyes teary again. "I'm not important Hiiragi. Please, do this for me, and for all those that lost their lives to that monster."

Hiiragi knew Batyushka didn't value her life at all. She'd be glad to have a reason to throw it away if it meant she could avenge her dead son and husband.

_'Father, what should I do? I don't want this woman to throw her life away. She's so young and I can still see a light in the darkness of her soul. And she has a hidden talent, I know a determined heart from a lost one. She'd be worthy of a Demon Slayer.'_

Hiiragi closed his eyes for a brief moment, seeking guidance from his deceased father's teachings.

"Speak from experience. What saved you from your demise?"

Hiiragi remembered his younger days, when he was still a naïve demon slayer. The deaths he could have prevented, how many friends had given their lives for his sake. What had saved him?

"I have a condition."

Batyushka was genuinely surprised he accepted. Hiiragi wished he didn't have to, but his gut was telling him that if he didn't use this woman's help right now, he would be coming back to her cottage disappointed from an unsuccessful hunt.

"When that demon dies, and it dies today." nothing would stop Hiiragi from finding it. He'd been tracking and learning the demon's moves for years, and now that Batyushka offered herself as a sacrifice, a decoy, his chances of finding it were even higher. It was the only demon in the whole continent, and it was only a mile or two away from Batyushka's home, in a forest she knew like the back of her hand. And it was still sunny, a few hours before night would befall Vladivostok. "Before dawn, its head will lie before our feet. And when it does, you will become my apprentice."

Batyushka wanted to speak, but Hiiragi didn't let her.

"I'll show you there's a reason to live, even when everything you ever loved was taken away from you."

"…" Batyushka looked him deep in the eyes and Hiiragi, for the first time in a long time, let his vulnerability show. If she was as capable in sensing emotions as well as he was, then she'll understand.

_'I've disappointed so many. I let so many die. I should have died instead of my friends, instead of my father.'_

He closed his eyes, and opened them again. He was cold again. "Do you accept?"

"Why would you do something like that for me?"

"'A lost soul needn't be lost forever. All they need is guidance.' It's what my deceased father taught me."

"What…" Afraid to overstep her boundaries, Batyushka spoke carefully. "Happened to your father?"

"He died protecting me from demons." It was a sensitive topic, but Hiiragi had very little time to waste. A minute more and he'll have to leave Batyushka behind.

Batyushka's eyes shone from compassion, even when Hiiragi thought she was clouded by hatred and grief. Strangely, her soft gaze didn't make him feel bad, but warmed him. Even made him feel less lonely in his guilt, if only for a moment.

"Batyushka, we haven't the time. I gave you an offer. Do you accept?"

_'Accept. Give yourself a second chance.'_

Batyushka looked frantic, sweat forming on her temple, as if this was the hardest decision she ever had to make.

"A… Alright!" She was unsure, but Hiiragi knew, even though she tried to deny it with all of her being, she wanted to live again. She just needed a little push forward, and Hiiragi would be glad to teach her how to use her tragedy for good. "I'll… I'll try. I accept!"

"Good. Now-" despite the flurry of emotions, Hiiragi's demeanour changed and he made his heart cold as ice.

_'Think of that demon. Only that demon, who has killed so many because of your mistake, Daiki. Kill it.'_

"You've accepted me as your teacher, Batyushka, so follow my orders." Hiiragi started walking towards the forest with the woman in toe. Though she was confused, she was also determined to put an end to this.

"I will protect you. The demon will have to reveal itself to lay its hands on you, and when it tries, I will attack it. But before that-" Hiiragi turns around and gives out his first order. "you'll put on the show of a lifetime."

"What do I have to do?"

The flame in her heart lit up like a beacon.

"Show it just how 'crazy' you truly became for what it did to your family."

Batyushka's grip on her axe was so tight the wood beneath her palm cracked.

Hiiragi kept her close until they entered the darker part of the forest. Batyushka went forward, and Hiiragi climbed up a tree.

_'I hope this works.'_ Hiiragi was confident in his skills to protect Batyushka, he just hoped, prayed that finally, that demon would be cut down and sent to hell.

_'Soon I'll win this game of tag, and fulfil my duties.'_ Hiiragi jumped from tree to tree, so silent that even the rodents didn't flinch. He held his sword in his left hand, ready to strike as soon as he had a glimpse of the demon's body. Not far away, Batyushka's screams echoed through the forest, so loud that even the villagers could hear her.

What Hiiragi noticed most was how her sorrow and grief was replaced by rage. Her meek voice from before sounded nothing like the lioness she was now.

"How dare you take them away from me! When I find you I'll rip out your guts and feed them to the wolves, you monster!"

An hour had passed, maybe two, and Batyushka hadn't stopped screaming. From time to time, Hiiragi would notice a thin tree shake from the impact of her axe. She made an incredible commotion, and the greater the sounds of her hatred for the demon, the better.

**"Hehehe…"**

And then he heard it. A voice so sickening, so full of gluttony and evil it made his vision go dark for a moment.

Hiiragi had the highest grounds. And a few measly feet below him, so close it would only take a second to slice its head off, sat the ugliest display of a humanoid monster he had seen in the past four years. Hiiragi's breath stilled completely, and like a predator, he waited for the perfect moment to attack.

But he was angry, veins in his head popping form rage, and he used his remaining willpower not to scream out the demon's name.

**"She's extra crazy today… last time must have really gotten to her. I wonder how I'll play with her now… maybe mock her on how I ate her lover?"**

Hiiragi unsheathed his sword, the letters on the nichirin blade shimmering - _the defender_.

_'I finally found you, you lowly scum…'_

Hiiragi raised his sword, the leather straps of his handle squeaking beneath his grip.

_'The hunt is over, **Ubegat**.'_


	8. Catch Me If You Can, Old Man

_This album is perfect for the following chapters, I highly recommend you listen to it! :3_

_**Kurotokage - Call To The Deep (2002) (Japanese Synth, Ritual Dark Ambient)**_

* * *

_This is a story of a man who tries to fix the terrible mistakes he's made so many years ago._

* * *

A storm raged in the mountainy region of Northeast Japan. On the right, beaches stood with sand and rocks being thrown about from the force of the Japanese sea. Within the island, thick branches snapped and fell to the moss covered ground. The forest was old and looked barren from any human soul.

So in these seemingly isolated forests, with mountains and hills covering the land as far as the eye could see, one would not expect a tall fortress to stand on the highest hilltop, booming with life. Although it seemed rusty and abandoned, like an old Buddhist temple from the Edo Period, fires beaconed from its verandas and men in black uniforms with katanas marched through its hallways, some energized, but most exhausted, rightfully so.

To be awake through the night, exchanging shifts and always keeping on guard for potential demon attacks was more mentally draining than physically exhausting. More so because of the rain, which was great ambient for a good nap. Every third demon slayer had their eyes closed, their breaths were shallow with their shoulders slacked, because sleep seemed so welcoming…

But their leader, Hiiragi Daiki, wouldn't let them.

"Wake up." Daiki slapped a man half-kneeling from exhaustion with the back of his hand. The demon slayer yelped and fixed his posture. "No slacking on the job, newbie. The shift ends at sunrise."

"A-apologies, Hiiragi sir! I won't do it again!" the young slayer quickly bowed before immediately wobbling down the opened hallway, his gloved hand gripping his katana, and the other holding his red cheek. Daiki continued the other direction, repeating this process of waking up the demon slayer members of his station until he finally came to a set of staircases. Walking to the upper floor, he took out his bottle of sake and sat himself down by the nearest campfire, next to a man close to his age, Hiiragi Hayato, Daiki's cousin and second in command. Hayato revealed his own bottle of sake, greeted Daiki and took a sip.

"Been reading about the war going on between the Russian Empire and our country." Hayato shook his head. "It hurts me to think our nation has to defend itself from our Russian ancestors. We blame the demons and their creator for a lot of things, but I still think humanity is its own worst enemy."

"Humanity is not my enemy. I don't have an interest in their political affairs, and neither should you." But Daiki followed Hayato's gaze far away into the horizon. Even in the darkness of the thick fog, in the city of Aomori, lights and large army ships could be seen everywhere. The ships were docked, unfit to leave in the heavy storm.

"I like to know what's going on outside in the real world. Plus, I would love to retire soon. I need a hobby." Hayato squinted at Daiki. "You do too, Daiki. We're getting old."

Daiki grumbled.

Time had indeed caught up with him. He was nearing his late sixties. The stress of his work added to his already wrinkly skin, and made his once dark beard as white as snow. But with age came wisdom, respect, and many responsibilities.

As a member of the Hiiragi family, a family of warriors and defenders of the Northeast border, Daiki had no right to retirement. Not with so many young demon slayers, members of the Hiiragi station, looking up to him and looking for guidance.

"We retire when we're unfit for combat, Hayato. And age is no obstacle. That's the Hiiragi family way." Daiki stated, his icy blue eyes never leaving Aomori.

"I miss my wife. I haven't seen my nieces and nephews for months-" Hayato immediately froze when he noticed Daiki's shoulders tense. "Sorry."

"Why the hell are you apologizing?" Daiki scoffed, jugged the last few drops of his sake and placed the bottle back into his uniform pocket. "Keep that sentimentality for your wife and the kids when you get back home."

_'It's not your fault Mayu died.'_

Her untimely death wasn't Daiki's fault either. He had fallen for a woman whose body was frail since the day they'd met, and who couldn't bear the stress of childbirth.

It'd been more than thirty years since that day – Daiki had grown distant to his deceased wife, but the happy memories of their time together brought him a mixture of melancholy, peacefulness and dread.

Many had cursed at him after her death. To this day, Mayu's family hated him for the way he acted at her funeral. Apparently, he was emotionless and seemed unmoved. His eyes, they said, were as cold as ice.

And though they denied this, Daiki was certain they hated Mayu as well – because she married into a different religious life.

They didn't know about his and Mayu's connection. She knew that the day she married into the Hiiragi family, it was duty that was valued above everything else.

That didn't mean Daiki didn't miss her. Oh, how he missed her. Mayu was once his sweetheart, one of the rare things that made his stone heart beat just a bit faster. Though he seemed cold, sometimes even cruel, Daiki showed his love for Mayu through his deeds - and never sought another wife after her.

It was a good thing he had so many younger brothers and sisters to continue the 'Hiiragi dynasty'.

"Well, I better go scout the fields south of the tower. Haven't been there in a while." said Hayato, finally breaking the silence Daiki wasn't even aware of. A storm was still raging, and he was deep in thought. "I hope it stops raining soon. It's even harder to spot a demon in these awful weather conditions. We can't even use our crows." Hayato grimaced. "And I don't like getting my uniform wet."

"If you'd learnt to use your sixth sense properly, you wouldn't even need a crow." Daiki scoffed. Hayato could easily sense a demon's presence in a radius of a few hundred meters, but he would never be as good as his older cousin, because he never perfected the skill.

"My God, at least act likable Daiki." Hayato laughed. He fixed his belt and his weapon, a black, silvery sheathe decorating a curved saber. The handle of the saber was blood red. It was identical to Daiki's blade – because all Hiiragi family members had a similar sword. Made by selected swordsmiths from within the Demon Slaying Corps, the Hiiragi members had them customized not only for their unique swordsmanship, but to represent their Russian roots and their representative colours – Black, red and silver were the symbols of this warrior family.

Disciplined in duty, courageous in battle.

"Make sure to wake the others. Throw them in the rain if they're slacking off."

"Haha, good one!"

Daiki wasn't joking.

Once Hayato was out of sight, Daiki leaned on the pommel of his sword and closed his eyes. It looked as if he was resting, but all his focus was on the open field of ancient trees before him. The atmosphere was heavy from rain. He waited for movements between the loud droplets and claps of thunder – he searched for a demon's presence in a form of a red silhouette in the darkness of his vision. His mind prickled, but otherwise it was clear.

His breathing stilled as his focus deepened. From an outsider's perspective, it looked like Daiki wasn't breathing at all.

For now, there were no demons surrounding their mountain. If it weren't for the rain, Daiki could easily spot one a mile away.

_'Focus on your intuition. Don't think, just listen and feel the atmosphere around you, Daiki. A demon has a heavy, ugly presence. The air around it turns red and misty, as red as the fog on a crimson moon. Its silhouette is that of a deformed monster. When it's near, your skin will crawl.'_ Daiki remembered his father's words to the pitch of his tone. He let his body do the work for him – it would react accordingly if a demon dared get too close to him.

_'We'll hunt it down if it does appear.'_ Daiki opened his eyes and leaned against the wall. He placed the sword on his knees and stared into the dark, rainy sky._ 'But for now, it seems safe.'_

He gave himself a moment of piece before returning to his duties and disciplining any demon slayer that dozed off.

Soon, he was down to his last, fiftieth member, and Daiki stood at the top of his tower station. The sky had started to lighten, indicating morning was nearing, and the storm had ceased, the strong wind from before turning into a soft breeze.

Daiki stepped into the square space of the tower and entered his office. It was a small space, with two futons and two desks. It was decorated in traditional Japanese furniture, but a few shelves were decorated with Russian ornaments and two religious icons – Mary with baby Jesus, which was Hayato's, and Jesus, which was Daiki's. This, along with their footwear, leather boots, and their swords, a Cossack saber, was what distinguished the Hiiragi family from the rest of demon slayers – they were orthodoxian.

Daiki sat down at his desk, took a quill and began writing the monthly report to the honourable family responsible for the Demon Slayer Corps' existence.

**'March 14th, 1904**

**Master Ubuyashiki,**

**this is the monthly report from the Northeast border, Hiiragi station.**

**There are no cases of escaped demons. This month we had killed only fifteen demons, and the number is decreasing. Luckily there were no serious casualties. Some uniforms had gotten damaged. If possible, we would like you to escort a tailor to us for repairs. The Hiiragi family will pay in advance.**

**With respect,**

**Hiiragi Daiki, commander of the Northeast Hiiragi station'**

Putting down his quill, Daiki folded the letter into an envelope and marked it with the Hiiragi family crest. He then walked to a large golden cage, where his messenger bird rested. As soon as he opened the small door, the raven woke from its slumber and flew onto his shoulder.

"To Ubuyashiki."

The bird grabbed it, spread its large black wings and flew south when Daiki opened the door. It would take four days for the letter to return if there was anything the Ubuyashiki family needed, and if not, his raven would return with an empty beak.

A dim light shone through the blinds. It was morning. His shift had ended and he would sleep in the comforts of his bed soon, when the sun was high enough for it to be safe. There were still a couple of things he had to do – write bills and checks, check if the Hiiragi tower had all the necessary resources like food and water... there was always so much to do, even outside of his demon hunting expertise.

God, he was getting old. So old that whenever he tried to relax, he felt every joint in his body pop.

But no one would ever find out that Hiiragi Daiki, The Frost Pillar, liked to grumble about back-pain.

He flipped through the bill-book while massaging his lower spine. He would occasionally yawn and scratch his nose – it was itchy, and the boogers bothered him. Plus, he was a little bored. Sometimes the boogers would come out in interesting forms. A great way to pass the time before bed-

Sounds of rapid stomps echoed outside the tower's hallway. The door slammed open, shaking the office walls.

"Sir Hiragi!" A boy no older than seventeen dashed into his office. Daiki vaguely remembered him as Kanai, one of the newer recruits. He made it a rule for himself to remember every name.

Daiki knew his glares could be deadly, so he made sure to show the child just how pissed he was for disturbing him and almost breaking down his office door. "What the hell are you doing, newbie? Get out of my room before I-"

"Sir, this is urgent!" Kanai was fidgeting, Daiki noticed that immediately. He let him speak, but he stayed sat.

"O-one of our comrades is… dead…"

"Dead?"

There's no way that's possible. 'Dead? He must be hallucinating. What could possibly kill a demon slayer, other than a demon?' And Daiki couldn't sense any demons. The air around him was clear and brisk, the atmosphere light. But the boy before him was skittish, his hands were shaking.

"Yes sir. Come quickly, you need to see it for yourself…" Kanai's eyes were wide and frantic, completely exposing his beginner qualities of a demon slayer. Daiki would have commented on his 'pathetic' behaviour, but stayed silent to not cause more stress to the boy. He could tell from the atmosphere that the young demon slayer was near a panic attack.

He followed closely behind him, running down the stairs, and Daiki noticed how firm Kanai's grip was on his katana.

"What happened? How?" he didn't exactly believe the younger slayer.

"I-I don't know sir! He was with us on patrol before it happened – I swear I never thought this could happen-"

"What happened." Daiki was getting impatient and he grabbed the demon slayer by his collar and turned him around – only to see him crying and hyperventilating. "…"

"Tsukasa was w-with us on the final shift… he said he was just going back to the tower, so we waited for him… a-and then he didn't come back-!"

Tsukasa. Daiki knew all of his members' faces, and he thought of a man in his twenties, charismatic and who followed his orders diligently. Daiki liked him, he was a good 'soldier'. And clearly, these two were good friends.

Daiki put both of his hands on Kanai's shoulders and squeezed. "Calm yourself. Breathe, junior." Daiki still wondered if this boy just had a terrible nightmare and was at odds with reality. But once he evened his breathing, his tears became endless. Daiki would usually never tolerate crying, but it hadn't seemed like an appropriate time to play general.

"W-we went back to the station, and Tsukasa was never there. W-we asked sir Hayato for help, a-and he sent out a search party –"

_'Why didn't Hayato come to me?'_

Then again, it was Hayato's turn to look over the lower terrain surrounding Hiiragi tower, while Daiki disciplined the rest of the demon slayers.

Besides, he should have sensed if something was wrong. A death of a demon slayer in the hands of a demon attack? Daiki would never make a mistake like that.

"Show me the way, Kanai."

Kanai nodded slowly and as they ran to their destination, Daiki noticed many squad members followed towards the same direction, towards the very bottom of the cliff. He also noticed that the sun had barely revealed itself. The sky was still a murky grey and the ground was layered with a dense fog. He couldn't see his own feet.

During their run, Kanai managed to calm himself enough to speak with coherent sentences. He wiped away his tears and tried doing what every member of the Hiiragi station had to abide by – duty before emotions. Daiki learnt Tsukasa had been found only minutes ago, and that Kanai was sent to get him immediately.

"Tsukasa's body is in the cave, sir…"

All station members were gathered before the entrance of the cave. It was a secluded area, surrounded by moss covered boulders. The steep ground was slippery from last night's storm.

As soon as Daiki came to view, the slayers stepped aside and made room for their commander. They whispered amongs themselves. "How could this happen…" "What now…?" "Where was the commander...?"

"Daiki!" Hayato ran out of the cave, his usually pale face even paler than usual. "You're finally here!"

"What's going on, Hayato?"

"So you don't sense anything either… shit." Hayato furiously pinched his eyebrows. He stepped aside and walked alongside him into the cave. Another demon slayer followed them, torch in his hand.

The further they walked, the wider the trail of blood had gotten, but worse was the smell of a deceased body.

"We found him like this…" Hayato said, trying to keep his emotions at a minimum, but he was distressed.

Daiki's heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach and not because of the dismembered corpse of Tsukasa that lied before him in a puddle of blood, urine and faeces. He'd seen many gruesome examples of bodies in his forty-five years of demon hunting.

But Daiki was horrified to realise he couldn't sense any demonic presence. Despite standing only feet away from Tsukasa's naked corpse, with demon claw marks all over his body, there was absolutely nothing. No evil, dreadful atmosphere.

Daiki looked at Hayato in shock, his mouth set in a firm line. He was speechless – this had never happened before, not in the Hiiragi station.

"We found him and hour later after I sent out a search party. I've made some assumptions during the time Kanai got you here. His limbs were torn off before he died." Hayato grimaced, looking away from the corpse and onto the blood-soaked ground. "He was terrified and in a lot of pain. And look – his katana and uniform are gone. The demon took it, that I'm certain."

"A demon. Hayato, we couldn't sense it. Christ, we couldn't even hear him scream! This makes no sense-"

"I know. I don't know what's happening – something unnatural. Whatever the case is, there's a demon on the loose, wielding a katana and dressed in a slayer's uniform – Why would it do that?"

Daiki cursed. "Gather his body and prepare it for cremation. I'll write a letter to his family." Daiki looked into Tsukasa's lifeless eyes one last time before marching out of the cave, gripping his sheathe with a deadly force.

He was furious.

_'Rest in peace, honourable slayer.'_

He was devastated and abashed. He still wasn't able to process fully what had happened. There was a serious demon attack and it had only happened an hour before sunrise. The demon couldn't be far away. There was still time to catch it.

Stepping into the misty light of the forest, Daiki took his saber and smashed its bottom sheath against a boulder to get the demon slayers' attention. Their gossip stopped and they all turned to their commander, hands against their sides and ready to act out his next orders.

"You've all seen the body of our fallen comrade. I've no doubt the tragedy of his gruesome death wrought fear into your hearts." Some slayers stood firm, but many shook on their feet. This wasn't like any ordinary demon attack. Their comrade was tortured before being slaughtered like a pig. "But don't let your fear mislead you – for there's a demon on the loose, hiding somewhere in the forest. Search for it in groups, look for footprints, claw-marks – anything. Now scatter!"

"Yes sir!" they shouted in union and ran in all directions.

Daiki looked calm, as if Tsukasa's death had no effect on him. But his thoughts were scattered.

_'I still don't sense anything. This doesn't make any sense. No demon ever come so close to the station before–'_

And suddenly the atmosphere became so heavy.

Daiki stumbled to his knees and gripped his neck because he couldn't breathe. His head was spinning, the forest around him turned darker and suddenly, all he saw were red silhouettes.

"What-?!" he heaved. He was paralyzed, as if suddenly, an army of demons surrounded him. His head was splitting from the overwhelming pressure-

"D-Daiki-" Hayato practically crawled out of the cave, his face covered in sweat. "Don't come into the cave… you'll pass out." Seconds later, he tumbled to the ground and wouldn't move. Daiki took his advice and leaned against the nearest wall, as far away from the cave as possible. He couldn't think with such a severe headache.

He felt sick, close to falling unconscious. Everything around him was red.

The slayer that was with Hayato, who unlike them hadn't posessed a sixth sense, walked to his second commander's side, worry masking his face, completely oblivious to the evil lurking from the darkness of the cavern and spreading like a plague.


	9. Red Mist

_Hiiragi Daiki deals with the aftermath of the demon attack in a very unhealthy way..._  
_but sometimes, healthy won't get the job done._

_As always, music :3_

**_Kurotokage - Call To The Deep (2002) (Japanese Synth, Ritual Dark Ambient)_**

* * *

How many days had passed since the attack? Daiki lost track of time, and of himself in the severity of his headaches.

The demon slayer members were worn and torn in their endless nightly search of the forest – and the number of demons increased around its vicinity.

A week had barely passed and they had already killed ten demons. That was a dangerously high number, and if the Hiiragi members didn't get their senses back, one was bound to escape to Hokkaido.

Members had to join with the other stations across Northeast Japan to increase their capacity, and surveillance was needed 24/7, including at daytime around darker areas of the forest. Most demon deaths occurred during daytime, when their escape was impossible.

The Hiiragi station never had to revolve around crows, but now the loud birds were everywhere, their wings cutting through the wind, their screeching making Daiki's head split in half. All they were really good for was spotting demons outside of the forest, other than that, the trees were too thick to spot anything. And it wasn't unusual for a crow to be killed by a demon either.

The station's unhinged order was in shambles, confusion and fear spread like wildfire. Those emotions intensified each time a member came back from their mission injured, from various reasons. Daiki had warned them to never let their guard down – but sleep-depravation had its psychological toll, and eventually a slayer had fallen victim to a demon's fangs. He was lucky to survive the attack thanks to the help of his comrades, but his days as a soldier were over.

To Daiki, a life of a cripple was worse than that of a slayer.

The Ubuyashiki family had little to offer.

**'Hiiragi Daiki,**

**I've sent out many members of the Demon Slaying Corps on missions regarding the mystery of your current circumstances. Some are specialized espionages. The exact nature of the demon you are facing is unknown, but I followed your suggestion on its pattern of killing. Your description of demon slayer Tsukasa's death is similar to a death we found in central Japan. Limbs torn, possessions taken, heads severed, teeth pulled…'**

Daiki still wasn't able to comprehend why Tsukasa's voice reached no one's ears. No man had a high enough pain tolerance to withstand torn limbs.

**'The slayers are still searching for more clues. We can't say this is the same demon, but for now, focus on your vicinity. Make certain no demons pass the border.'**

Focus? Daiki couldn't even think. His senses were fried, his sight blurred by the red smoke that scattered through the whole forest like a poisonous gas.

**'Humanity is grateful for your protection of the Northeast borders, Hiiragi Daiki. Best regards to you, your comrades and the Hiiragi family.**

**Ubuyashiki' **

What was he protecting, bed-bound with medicine that did nothing to ease his fever and headaches?

Daiki was useless, and that infuriated him more than the physical pain.

The tower rooms were much like sanctuaries, a barricade from the red mist that overwhelmed the forest, and him. He could barely describe what he was feeling, aside from his throbbing mind – his heart-rate had increased, and his lungs stung.

He received letters, and gave out warnings to other stations – the other Hiiragi members had similar symptoms. Everyone with a sixth sense and their blood was bed-bound.

But his station was most affected.

Hayato was unresponsive. He wasn't as resilient to the pain as Daiki was. Whenever he was awake, he mumbled from deliriousness. Daiki was certain no doctor could help his cousin – he had to leave the forest, and soon. Daiki knew he should abandon his post too, but his pride as a commander would never let him.

He'd rather die than leave his station and fifty of his comrades at such a dangerous time.

_'This is a severe case of a demon attack – never in the past three-hundred years had the Hiiragi family been so incapacitated.'_

His office door opened, and closed immediately. A rule members had to abide by ever since the dreadful demon attack. The further away he was from the 'red mist', the better, said his doctor, though Daiki remembered how the younger man dared mock him, as if he was crazy.

That doctor left their station on foot and foodless, on Daiki's orders.

"Sir Hiiragi, Kikio Sone," spoke one of the rare female slayers of the Hiiragi station. Sone was an older woman, late thirties, her eyes cold and distant to the cruelties of the demons. She was one of the rare members unfazed by Tsukasa's dismembered corpse. Daiki had all the best reasons to pick this woman as a substitute second in command, while Hayato was out of combat. She had the heart of a dutiful warrior, and although she never killed a demon by herself, she was an excellent tactician.

"What's the situation?" Daiki grunted and picked himself up to a sitting position. He winced.

"Without your help, spotting demons has been quite difficult, sir. Worse, they've started counterattacking us, and I believe they are grouping up." Sone kneeled, her sharp eyes blank and sunken with sleep-deprivation. "If what you're saying about the demons, that they're scattered, coming from South Japan and hiding all over the Northeast borders, is true-"

Daiki was certain that was the case. It had to be. How else could the evil demonic presence be explained? He even received a letter from his family in Aomori – they felt the dreadful atmosphere even from miles away.

"Then I fear they're surrounding us."

"Nonsense. Demons don't work together. They're thirsty for human flesh, they'll kill each other over one of us before they start sharing the goods."

"It would be unusual... So I stick to the original plan?"

"Yes. It's the best the station can do, until Ubuyashiki gives us more information."

_'And until I get it together.'_

Sone's eyes were downcast and she glanced at Hayato. Despite having a warrior's heart, she was still worried for her commanders. And being given the role of a leader was a heavy responsibility, no doubt she wanted the two Hiiragis to lead her again, and everyone else. "How are you feeling? Is there anything you want me to bring to you?"

"…" Sone meant it in all of her good will, but Daiki's veins popped and his headache increased. He was outraged by how weakened he was from something he couldn't even begin to understand.

And to appear so weak in front of his station members? His pupils?

Shameful.

He glared behind Sone, nostrils flared and fists gripping his sheets. "There's nothing you can do. Return to your duties."

"Sir." Sone bowed and left the room.

Daiki waited for the sound of her footsteps to disappear before crumbling Ubuyashiki's letter and throwing it in rage. His head was still spinning, his stomach turning itself over with an urge to hurl out his yesterday's meal.

But Daiki threw himself out of bed, and crawled to the entrance and opened it before slamming it close. He limped to the veranda fence and leaned on it, glaring at the bloody darkness of the forest before vomiting.

He was heaving, grunting, his eyes stung and his head was splitting itself open. He could barely breathe, the pressure of the red mist was crushing his lungs, it felt like his ribcage was going to snap and pierce his organs. This is how it always felt like whenever he stepped out of his room and into the bloody, poisonous fog.

"Damn it…!" Daiki slammed his fist on the fence, the force of the punch breaking the wood. His hand was left with bleeding wounds and splinters, maybe even a split knuckle, but that was like a scratch compared to what was going on inside his head. "Damn it to hell!"

_'What did that bastard of a demon do!? Fucking scum, messing with me, a Hiiragi –!'_ His headache was getting more severe, but so was his rage. It was the only thing motivating him to stay conscious.

Daiki pulled at the black scarf around his head until there was nothing left but a tattered cloth. He was going insane – the demonic pressure was killing him.

He saw blurry droplets of blood falling on the floor and he was unable to tell if it was from his scalp or from his nose. He looked frantic as darkness consumed his vision.

But he swore he saw, amidst the goory mist within the forest, dots of even more sickening red. He could even feel a heavier presence there. Could it be that those were the real demons?

"Agh-!" Daiki's body crashed against the wall and he gripped his blood-smeared white hair. His eyes felt boiling hot, his eardrums were about to burst from the intense ringing in his head.

But if Daiki gritted his teeth, he could spot a difference. He wasn't completely useless-

"Sir Hiiragi?" Sone returned at hearing her commander's distressed screaming. "Sir, why are you outside? You're bleeding-"

"There-" Daiki's whole body shook as he barely lifted his arm to point at the direction of his found target, whether it was real or fake it had yet to be known. But he had to trust his intuition, the Hiiragi stations couldn't function with crows and numbers alone. "Send members South from here…! Agh!" Daiki hit his head with a clenched fist repeatedly, desperate to replace his agonizing pain with anything else other than what that shitty demon was doing to him.

"Sir Hiiragi, please stop! You're hurting yourself-" Sone's measly attempt at comforting Daiki was countered by an iron grip of her wrist. Her bones cracked and she yelped, and despite Daiki's delusional state, he managed to stop himself from breaking Sone's wrist in half. He growled, inches away from the woman's ghostly face. His slanted glare spoke series of curses and threats, but what scared Sone the most was how bloodshot her commander's eyes were. She never understood exactly what the two Hiiragis felt, but she'd never saw Daiki so vulnerable.

Daiki saw the pity in Sone's eyes and he would have thrown the woman off his veranda if she dared do anything other than agree to his demands.

"I'll send a squad there immediately!" And she was off, worried sweat covering her neck. She glanced back one final time before disappearing to the lowest floor, yelling orders and marching South.

Daiki punched, tore at anything he could take hold of to cope with his agony.

_'This has to end-! I can't breathe, it's cracking my skull-!'_ His usual concentrated breath was completely disturbed as he panicked. Daiki tossed about until his back collided with a slide-door and he fell backwards into the safety of the tower. The red mist seeped into the room like smoke, following Daiki wherever he crawled to.

It was breaking him, making him feral, with saliva pouring through his gritted teeth. But Daiki swore the red dots he pointed at were warping into silhouettes. He glared at their direction, focused.

But as soon as the mist engulfed him, Daiki slammed his forehead against the concrete and screamed.

"How dare you – bastard…!" Daiki gasped, desperately fighting to stay conscious.

Demon slayers soon appeared to try and aid Daiki, only to get yelled at and degraded.

"Who ordered you to come here – leave now before I toss you out!"

"Yes, sir…" They looked at each other with uncertainty, then at the trail of blood left from their commander's self-inflicted wounds, before leaving.

"I won't give in..." Daiki huddled into himself, tearing out the flesh of his scalp.

_'I'll learn to deal with this agony – and when I do, I'll hunt you and cut you down to oblivion, demon!'_


	10. Devil's Medicine

**_SPOILER: An important character appeared.._**

* * *

The aftermath of his outburst left Daiki with deep gashes all over his head, which were bandaged and dirtied red. Sone would come regularly to change them throughout the day, whenever she wasn't busy helping him with paperwork or looking out for the other station members.

Daiki placed his pride aside and apologized to Sone as soon as his headache decreased.

"No need sir, I understood the situation fully. I cannot imagine the pain you must have felt at that moment."

He wished she would berate him on his unprofessionalism. What Daiki had done was a terrible mistake – his outburst scared the other slayers. They feared him before, for his strict and commanding aura, but now he truly terrified them.

That night, when Daiki had calmed down, he looked at himself in the mirror – blood oozed down his face, staining his grey kimono and making him look like a beast.

One good thing came out of his outburst – his intuitions were correct, and two demons were hidden in one of the forest caves South from the tower. But exhibiting his talents in the red mist had drained him, and Hiiragi was certain if he'd stayed in it any longer, he would have torn at his scalp until he bled himself to death.

That same night, he came to the conclusion that he needed help. Real help, not just the specialist doctors from his estate that did nothing to soothe his headaches. Their herbs and drugs were weak – he needed medicine against the unexplained red mist.

And only demons were capable of understanding other demons.

Daiki glared at the letter in his hands, and at the wooden box held by two Kakushi members by his door. Beside them sat none other than the Flame Pillar himself, Rengoku Shinjuro.

**'Hiiragi Daiki,'**

**I've spoken with the doctor. I understand your values against such treatment, but I strongly advise you to take it as soon as you can in order to continue your duties. Once the medicine had taken effect, and if all is well, forward them to the Kakushi, so that other Hiiragi family members can also receive treatment.**

**Follow her instructions diligently.**

**Ubuyashiki'**

Daiki folded the letter and placed it on the ground.

"I don't see why you must infiltrate my private room. Can't you wait outside, Flame Hashira?"

Shinjuro's eyes bore into Daiki, devoid of any patience. "I need to make sure you take this. Damnit, I shouldn't even be here, but Ubuyashiki just had to pick me of all the Pillars!" He grumbled, scratching his oddly-coloured hair, tapping his foot loudly against the wooden floor. Daiki had only met the man once before, and he wasn't nearly as ill-tempered as he was now.

"Where is this impatience coming from? It's unbecoming of a Pillar."

"Shut it old man!"

Daiki's expression darkened when Shinjuro slammed his fist against his cupboard, knocking it over and some of the content that was inside. His headache was still present, so the Hashira's booming voice and actions only made it worse.

Instead of fuelling the flame, Daiki beckoned the Kakushi to bring him the box.

Opening the locket, the first thing Daiki saw was a letter.

The large and wide box contained sixteen small bottles, each was placed neatly into a protective cotton surface. Each bottle was labelled – first month, second month, until it reached the final month. Daiki picked up the first in the row, shaking it and examining the reddish, pinkish liquid. It hadn't looked pleasant.

"You gonna read it or do I have to do it for you?" Shinjuro grumbled, his anger apparent from his vein-covered forehead. Daiki raised an eyebrow and snapped open the letter.

**'Dear Mr. Hiiragi Daiki,**

**Judging from your description of your circumstances, and from our research, what you are dealing with is no ordinary demon. I have sampled its blood, left from the body we found in Central Japan.'**

Daiki wondered if the demon doctor did anything else with the body.

**'The aroma is in its blood, like a pheromone. To me, it's a smell aching to the Camellia flower. I am not certain why it has such agonizing effects on members of your family. I have all the reason to believe it is the demon's special ability.'**

Daiki froze. Special ability?

"Flame Hashira, tell me."

"What."

"Have you ever come across a demon who specialized in deceit?"

"No. Besides, I haven't got a clue what you're dealing with, and that's not why I'm here."

Daiki was confused by his response. Sure, Shinjuro was one of the most impatient men he had ever met, but to downright ignore the seriousness of the subject?

**'I have created a compound medicine that should nullify its effect, though this medicine is still experimental.**

**Use it only once a month, the first day being the day you receive it. Take more, and there might be negative side effects on your body.'**

A long list of ingredients followed. Various herbs he had no idea what they meant.

**'Please send a reply on the effect of the medicine.**

**For further experimentation, I ask for a sample of your blood, before you take the serum and after. Two syringes are located beneath the content of the box.'**

Daiki slowly, unsurely removed the whole set, along with the cotton, from the box, and true to the letter, a smaller case with empty syringes was inside. He picked it up and set it aside.

**'Please give it to the accompanying Hashira.**

**I wish you well,**

**Dr. Tamayo'**

Daiki glanced at the impatient Flame Pillar, before signalling one of the Kakushi to take the first blood-sample.

"You'll drink it. If you find yourself unwilling, or too weak to do so, I'll gladly shove that bottle down your throat."

"Show some respect towards your elders, you wheat-haired bastard." Daiki was fed up with the disrespectful Flame Hashira.

"-!" Shinjuro's shocked expression was a nice thing to see.

"If anything, realise your place. You are in my tower, and a brat like you will not be giving me orders. The sooner you get out of my room, the sooner I take the medicine." Daiki stared Shinjuro down with his icy blue glare.

Shinjuro's shoulders tensed, but he did as Daiki commanded, slamming the door shut with a deadly force, knocking all hanging paintings onto the ground.

"What a stick in the mud, that man. Imagine him with a headache."

The two Kakushi chuckled at Daiki's sarcasm. But Daiki knew something wasn't right about the Flame Pillar. His aggression wasn't his usual personality trait – something had happened to make him this way.

With Shinjuro gone, and the first syringe full with Daiki's blood, the Frost Pillar was left with the demon doctor's 'cure'. To him, it was the closest thing to a poison.

Daiki took one bottle and is disturbed by the sweet smell of the medicine. He had no doubt the doctor's blood was in this, even though she hadn't mentioned it in the list of ingredients. He could sense it was in there – He could even smell it. A sickening, flowery scent.

But he drank it anyways. If Ubuyashiki trusted her, then he had no other choice but to do the same.

He had no more options.

The medicine was absolutely disgusting. Daiki wanted to puke out everything – and when it slid to his stomach, he gagged. He coughed until tears formed in his eyes. As if he just had a shot of perfume, the stinging, sour sensation travelled up to his brain, making him even more disoriented.

"Serves you right, old man!" he could hear the distant, arrogant voice of Rengoku Shinjuro. The bastard even laughed diabolically.

"Ugh, what a child that man is- Ugh!" Daiki rubbed sweat from his eyes.

But slowly with each passing minute, the pain, his headache… was fading away. He stood up from his bed and walked towards the closed exit of his room. Usually, being too close to it would cause his headache to intensify.

But it was getting meeker. Daiki carefully slid the door open, and gazed into the forest.

The strange mist was still there, but it wasn't red anymore. It was purple.

_'Interesting…'_

"So the medicine worked." Shinjuro stood from his kneeling position, showing of his full height. His sharp, angry eyes could even rival Daiki's icy blues, and Daiki was known to give out the meanest glares. "Great. Now get syringed so I can deliver the rest and go home already. You Hiiragis are spread all over the damn place."

"You do realise we must wait until nightfall?" Daiki leaned against the veranda fence, inhaling fresh air for the first time in a whole month.

"What!? Why?" Shinjuro was shell-shocked.

"My sixth sense isn't as sufficient during daytime. In order for me to spot demons, they need to reveal themselves at night."

"Bullshit!"

"It's true – a demon's urge to hide itself from the sun automatically hides their presence. Maybe, if the medicine was perfect, I would be able to sense something. As I am now, I cannot."

Daiki returned to his room so that the Kakushi could finish their job. His eyebrows were raised in amusement at Shinjuro's supressed rage. "In the meantime, take a look around the tower. Join us for dinner. It'll only take a couple of hours."

The Flame Hashira did not join them for dinner. He kept to himself on Daiki's training grounds, abusing the hay training dummies until there was nothing left but a few strands on a broken stick.

Daiki didn't want to pry into the man any further. But Shinjuro, at certain angles, reminded him of himself when he was younger, driven by overwhelming emotions. Daiki remembered how angry he was after his father's death, at himself for letting him die in the hands of the demons, at his mother for leaving him with no support in the demon slaying world. He remembers how lonely and helpless he felt after Mayu's illness had taken her away.

Shinjuro was experiencing similar emotions, and that he could read like a book.

"Sir, it's two hours before nightfall." Spoke Sone as she picked up the emptied tray of food. "How are you feeling? Are your headaches truly gone?"

Daiki looked into the forest, and slowly, but surely, as the sun began to fall, the red silhouettes od demons began to appear. And the agonizing pressure from before had completely vanished.

Daiki was, for the moment, cured.

"I've never been better. Sone, you will take charge of my office and the station tonight. Are you ready to permanently take the role of a second in command?"

Sone nodded without a second thought. "It would be an honour, sir Hiiragi."

Daiki, already dressed in his slayer uniform and his iconic black boots, picked up his saber and marched out into the training grounds where Rengoku Shinjuro kicked and punched another dummy to the curb.

"Those dummies are not meant for a Pillar."

"Hmph. They're shit, like everything else in this place." Shinjuro picked up the broken stick of the dummy he just killed, and used it as a substitute weapon. He swung it around like a katana.

The man reminded Daiki of himself so much.

"Say, Rengoku. Why don't you join me on the hunt tonight?"

"That's a bad idea. I might kill you." the blonde barked.

Daiki supressed a chuckle. It felt as if he was talking to his fifteen year old self, although Shinjuro was thirty, if not more.

"I believe it's a great idea. Imagine what two Hashiras could do."

"…" Shinjuro absentmindedly stared into the distance of the forest. Daiki's gaze followed, because far away he sensed morphed silhouettes of various demons, slowly revealing themselves from within the darkness.

"We may not have gotten off on the best of terms, but-"

Daiki ducked when Shinjuro flung his arm at his face.

"Why did you do that?" Daiki hummed and sidestepped away from the Flame Pillar.

"You aggravate me, old man. Acting all friendly when I know what you're looking for is a fight." the flame pillar growled, snapping the wooden pole in half with his grip.

Daiki's usually emotionless face twitched into a smirk. "I'm not looking for a fight out of aggravation, though I do find you very annoying."

"Feeling's mutual." Shinjuro scoffed, but removed his flame-coloured katana and placed it on the fence.

Daiki followed his movements.

"I'm only in need of a good sparing partner... to get back in shape. You understand."

"And I need a better dummy."

Tension in the air was rising, and soon, the members of the Hiiragi station surrounded the two Hashira in a circle. No one would pass the chance to watch one of the strongest men in the Slayer Corps spar. Even the calm Kikio Sone was interested, although her face was masked with worry for her commander's safety.

"Don't hold back just because I'm more than twice your age."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Shinjuro replied with a crack of his knuckles.


	11. Frost and Flame

_I really recommend this song!_

_**Percival - Dve Nevesti**_

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The slayers surrounded Daiki and Shinjuro, enthusiasm building in the air. Sone stood behind the fence, guarding the two pillars' swords. She was getting exceedingly more worried – she never expected her serious commander to pull a stunt like this, challenging another pillar.

Daiki couldn't say he never fought a pillar-worthy slayer before, or members of the Hiiragi family who had managed to climb to that rank, but he hadn't fought an opponent as challenging as Rengoku Shinjuro in years, much less a demon slayer from the south.

The man was silent, barely breathing, and Daiki knew he waited for him to blink, for that millisecond of vulnerability. But Daiki was ready, and the moment his eyes closed, he heard the immense force of Shinjuro's weight jumping off the ground. He moved like a raging flame, unpredictable and fast, but Daiki hadn't moved and waited for that crucial moment when he would counter him.

'_He's going for the back of the neck.'_

Shinjuro's arm was inches away from Daiki's neck, and the moment wind touched his skin, he countered. Not a second passed when the older man sidestepped from the attack, grabbing the Flame Pillar's wrist and twisting it, going for a break, but Shinjuro countered him by using his airborne momentum and kicked for his exposed ribs. Daiki saw the lethality of the kick and jumped as far away as he could, barely avoiding the attack.

"You tried to break my ribs." Daiki commented, but used the time-off to take off his jacket and shirt, revealing ripped and scar-covered muscles. Shinjuro did the same and threw it into the mob of cheering slayers.

"And you tried to break my wrist. You said no holding back, old man."

Daiki took the offensive, unable to hide his smirk. This was what he needed, the rush of adrenaline just before the actual hunt. Who else was a better candidate than the Flame Pillar himself?

He was having _fun_.

"I've only heard about your family." Shinjuro followed his movements. "Your style specializes in self-defence."

"Indeed." Daiki rolled his shoulders with a loud pop. "But don't undermine the other."

One, two, three, with each breath Daiki sprinted closer to Shinjuro, leaving behind a trail of dirt and dust, blinding whoever stood two feet behind him. With each step he built up his momentum, leaving no movement unused, and he aimed for the gut. Shinjuro crossed his arms and protected himself, his forearms receiving the blow and the power and his legs keeping him anchored to the ground.

Daiki hadn't stopped. He kept punching low until the Flame Pillar slapped his fist away, most likely fed up with the series of repetitive jabs, but that's when Daiki predicted the perfect counter. In a swirl of fast motions, he jumped onto his hands and spun his lower body as fast as he could, double kicking Shinjuro in his left shoulder and sending him flying into the wooden fence.

Sone yelped, barely moving the swords out of Shinjuro's way. With a loud crack he slammed against the fence, toppling it. Some time passed before he got up, his before furious expression now serious.

"What kind of counter was that? A double-kick?" Shinjuro grunted and slowly got up. Daiki noticed everything he did – how he scanned the terrain, the cliff that was abut thirty feet away.

"Using basic forms of defence will not work on you, Flame Hashira."

"Then I'll just make it harder for you to counter me."

Shinjuro evened his breath, and Daiki did the same to repeat the full concentration technique. Again, as soon as he blinked, the Flame Pillar attacked, this time head on.

His moves were barely predictable and Daiki struggled to follow them through. He felt the force of his punches and kicks spreading through his joints and leaving a stinging sensation, and this is where his old age showed its tool on him.

There was no denying his opponent was physically stronger than him. But he wouldn't let himself be defeated so easily.

Time was senseless to Daiki, but he believed minutes must have passed and Shinjuro kept on punching. His hits became even stronger, even faster and Daiki truly struggled to defend against the rampaging beast. He was certain that another minute of this would mean his defeat.

He didn't think he'd have to use his trump-card so soon into the fight.

Daiki buckled his knees, making it look like he had no more strength to hold himself upright, but his plan was to get closer to the ground. As were Daiki's predictions, Shinjuro immediately noticed his weakened posture and with a grunt, swung his fist into his face. And despite stepping back and rotating his neck with the punch to soften it, Daiki winced in surprise when his jaw popped from a dislocation.

'_What a powerful punch-!'_

The swing rotated Daiki's body more than he expected. His jaw throbbed and his left ear rung from the explosive attack. He had wondered if he should just fall to the ground and forfit the match.

'_I won't succumb to pain, not again- not in front of them!'_

Daiki gritted his teeth, cracking his dislocated jaw back in place and with a double-swing, he used his free hand to gather dry dirt and threw it into Shinjuro's face.

"_Fuck_-!" Shinjuro seethed, defending most of his body but making a fatal mistake when he tried to wipe away his dirt smeared eyes.

'_Now blow him away!'_

With a split second of time, Daiki saw an opening just bellow the Flame Pillar's gut, and kicked as hard as he could.

"Ugh-!" The kick itself wasn't that strong compared to the first attack, but Shinjuro stumbled away and landed on his knee. "Bastard, you have steel on your boots-!?"

Daiki hummed, dusting the ground with his strides before coming to a stop and bumping his boots with a loud clink. At the same time, he rubbed his hurt jaw – that was a risky move, one he wouldn't allow to repeat. "It's not nichirin though, that would disqualify me from the spar."

"You need cheap tricks to fight me?"

"It got you kneeling, though." Daiki rolled his neck, feeling his muscles warming up.

"Don't get full of yourself. You won't surprise me again!" With veins covering his forehead, Shinjuro jumped full force, returning to his attacks.

This continued until the sky darkened. Both men were heaving and bruises began to form on the surface of their sweat-covered skin. The most visible ones were on Shinjuro's shoulder where he got kicked, and on Daiki's cheek where blood oozed from his mouth.

"That was a good fight, Flame Hashira. I am grateful for your time." Daiki bowed, and surprisingly, Shinjuro did the same, although his was barely noticeable.

"I guess you have my respect – for an old fart, you sure hold your shit together." Shinjuro rubbed his bleeding nose.

"You have a very vulgar way of phrasing yourself, but thank you. Do you need anything for your injuries?"

"I'm not made out of sugar."

But Daiki chuckled, because indeed, it still felt like he was talking to his younger self. The vulgarism, pridefulness, arrogance... it was all there. But unlike before, he wasn't as mad. He must have vented his frustration out in their fight. "If you're still so full of energy, why not join the hunt, then?"

"No." The answer was blank and firm. Shinjuro went to Sone to receive his sword, and the woman skipped to her commander, worry never leaving her face.

"Suit yourself. But I firmly believe it would do you good to join me! You still have a little time to think."

"Hmph." Without another word, the blond Pillar walked into the crowd of slayers and Daiki chuckled at the faint complaint of: "Ok, who's got my jacket."

But despite the light-hearted atmosphere that was still present, Daiki also immediately noticed the gloominess in Shinjuro's eyes, just after their fight had ended. The man was troubled by something very deep.

"Sir, that was uncalled for. What if you had gotten hurt…" Sone handed him his saber and uniform, squinting at his bruised torso, especially his forearms from all the deflected attacks. "Even worse?"

"That would mean I was out of practice and I would not join the hunt." He stated as a matter of fact, buttoning his jacket.

"What about your headaches? Are they really gone?"

'_The headache didn't interfere with my fighting.'_ And in the distance, the red silhouettes of demons began to move. Some were fast, some took their time, unaware of their upcoming demise.

"For now." Dressed with his belt wrapped properly around his waist and his silver saber sheathed, Daiki turned to his members. They were scattered all over the place in no particular order, but when their commander saluted by kicking his steel boots together, they immediately formed a line.

"I know this fight was a sight to see, there's still cheering ringing in my ears," They chuckled at the small joke. "– but I hope you've learned something from it." Daiki hadn't fought to only show off – he showed them that he was better now, and ready to fight the demons alongside them.

"I think you all deserve an apology for my absence. But I assure you, my illness has subsided. Sadly, the same cannot be said for Hayato."

His cousin was officially gone. Retired not from age, but from the illness. As much as Daiki put duty before his emotions, he hoped the medicine Shinjuro brought him would work on his cousin, and the man would stay with his family for the rest of his remaining days.

"Like it was decided, Kikio Sone will hold her position as second in command until a proper Hiiragi member is chosen for that position." Now that he had returned as a proper commander, she looked more comfortable with the position. "I've no doubt that without her skilful coordination, this situation would have turned even more difficult. Any objections?"

"No sir!" they yelled in union and saluted Sone.

"Good. Now go to the station – prepare for four hour shifts, as per usual."

The members sighed in relief, because finally the awful, exhausting full-night shifts were over. One of the slayers lifted his arm.

"What will you be doing, Sir Hiiragi?"

"I'm joining the hunt."

'_That office of mine disgusts me.'_ Daiki grimaced.

"I will take the North side, and join all of you later. Sone, you stay with the station. Make sure they don't celebrate too much."

"Understood." But before she turned towards the tower, she whispered to Daiki. "What about the Flame Hashira? Should I give him a private room?" Sone beckoned at the fiery-haired man, whose body was leaning against what was left of the broken fence. He was in thought, and Daiki noticed his before gloomy atmosphere turned even more depressing.

"Yes. Take the two Kakushi to the guest room as well. They are to rest for tomorrow's journey." Daiki contemplated on going to Shinjuro, because something told him that he wouldn't be sleeping, despite the heavy bags underneath his eyes. "I trust you'll do fine in the tower while I'm gone."

Being one of the few women in the station, Daiki had heard many remarks about Sone's appearance. But from all the complaints he'd also heard in the past month while he was bedridden, the males also feared her authority.

"Sir. Will half an hour of preparation suffice?" Sone beckoned at the line of demon slayers entering the tower with haste, gathering little supplies from within their individual lockers.

"It will." Sone bowed one final time before following into the tower.

Daiki bid no mind to the resting, but most certainly watchful Flame Pillar, as he walked to the edge of the cliff and took deep breath. Cautiously. If he had done what he was doing now a mere twelve hours ago, he would have probably jumped off this cliff from the agonizing headache.

'_Where to start…'_

He put aside his total concentration breathing, and focused on his mind. He formed a picture of a war map, and the red silhouettes amidst the purple mist working as his figurines.

The demon doctor's medicine was doing wonders, and if the demons were within a radius of two miles, he could even tell how they were moving.

South side. One demon was already on the move, jumping from tree to tree. It was keeping its distance. Daiki has all the reason to believe more demons were hiding beneath the surface.

East. Three demons were slowly moving towards the North side. The first thing Daiki found incredibly odd was how they moved – planned. The three silhouettes eventually joined, only for a minute, before scattering into different directions in different speeds. Always keeping their distance from the tower.

'_Was this what Sone meant by the scum working together? Do they know about the tower too?'_

He kept his focus on both areas, then also turned to the West side, expanding his terrain of vision. He couldn't sense anything, other than a static like prickling in his brain. He would be sending a few dozen slayers there, just to make certain no demons were lurking in one of the caves.

He couldn't trust his sixth senses completely, not after what had happened on that dreadful night.

The night of Tsukasa's murder. The demon was only a few feet away, torturing the man to death. Daiki hadn't even visited his family to give his condolences yet.

He opened his eyes and exhaled sharply, supressing his building rage.

"Sir, the slayers are ready." Sone returned.

"Good, bring them outside."

Daiki gave out the orders. Each team had a map of their own and a few lanterns. Daiki took one as well, although he was contemplating on ditching it.

Tonight was a clear sky with a full moon. Just in his favour.

Each team was made up of captains and followers, the captain was the one who had the map.

Simple rules for a dangerous profession, but what surprised the slayers was the number of members in each team.

"Fifteen of us to the west side? Sir, that place has no cave systems for demons to hide. Wouldn't ten suffice, like with the rest?"

"I must make certain my intuitions are correct. As far as I know, that demon's attack still has me 'poisoned'. The west side is furthest away from where I will be, and you know just how many hiding spots there are in that area. You know the drill – never venture off alone. You know what could happen."

The thought of Tsukasa paled their determined faces.

"Don't be intimidated by the changes. You've worked so well by yourselves for the past month. Just stay together and you'll be fine." Daiki patted one of the slayers' shoulders before placing his arms behind his back.

"Sir!"

With a few more encouraging words form their commander, the members of the Hiiragi station scattered. Daiki exchanged a few more words with Sone about her documentations for tonight before parting ways.

"They trust you."

Rengoku Shinjuro was still present and still leaning on the fence. Daiki had figured he would have left for the guest room by now.

"Of course. They have to, I'm their commander. And if they didn't, that would mean I would be a bad one."

"That's a lot of lives on your shoulders."

"Indeed."

"… and you deal with that? You can't save everyone." His amber eyes were searching for something in Daiki.

"Sadly. I think every demon slayer has had to deal with feelings of hopelessness and shame at some point in their life."

The word hopelessness struck a chord with the Flame Pillar. "And how do you deal with hopelessness, Hiiragi."

Shinjuro called him by his last name. Had he truly gained some respect from him?

"In what situation? I've got many years behind me."

"You're around seventy, aren't you?" the blond asked, almost in disbelief.

"I am."

"How do you still fight?" Those were questions with a million answers.

'_I fight because it's my duty. Because I'm passionate about protecting civilians from evil. Because fighting is all know, and what I've been doing since the day I was brought to this world.'_

"I can't answer that for you, Rengoku. My upbringing is no doubt different from yours. I was taught to put duty before emotions form a very early age. It's easier for me to push them aside when the situation calls for it."

Shinjuro looked at the ground, contemplating heavily on his actions. Daiki would have loved to stay and listen to his apparent wish to open up and talk, but the blond picked a very bad time.

"So while I would love to have this conversation, I must go, before the demons venture any further. If you wish to rest for tomorrow's journey, just go to any of the available slayers in the tower, they'll show you-"

"I'm coming with you." Shinjuro sighed as if pushing himself off the fence was the most annoying this he'd ever done.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what's with the sudden change of mind?" Daiki almost let surprise show on his stoic face. He was honestly certain the stubborn Flame Pillar wouldn't give a damn about demon slaying – he made it very clear during their first encounter that all he wanted to do was go home.

"I was… being an ass. When it wasn't your fault." He rubbed his head awkwardly. It was almost endearing.

"You've only noticed that now?" Daiki asked with a chuckle. At least he was being mature about it.

"Shut up."

_'Nevermind.'_

Surely, there was still that dismal tone to Shinjuro's character, but for whatever reason, and not just an unbelieving excuse of 'being an ass' though he was one, the Flame Pillar decided to help Daiki. He was even more hospitable and pleasant to talk to.

"You're certain you wish to accompany me?"

"I think that by the end of the night, I'd probably feel bad for leaving an old man alone in the woods."

Daiki still worried for the baggy-eyed Flame Pillar, but accepted his help none the less.

Two pillars couldn't possibly mess up.


	12. The Wilting of a Bright Blue Flower

**_'You're a Rengoku, a warrior, a pillar! Pillars are supposed to be the strongest, physically and emotionally!'_ But Daiki was furious not at Shinjuro, but at himself for believing the man's personal issues wouldn't interfere with the mission.**

Song:

Nordic mythical & Pre-Viking ancestral ambient

* * *

**There is an illustration for this chapter, you can check it out on my tumblr:  your-girl-tam**

* * *

Leaves rustled in the soft breeze. Daiki and Shinjuro hid behind thick, moss covered vines, placing their swords on the right side.

The purple mist was heavily present, but not enough to cloud Daiki's senses. It was almost as if the whole world only turned a tad more purple.

"Why don't we just attack?" Shinjuro whispered as he squirmed, disgusted and uncomfortable. Not only was the moss wet, it was covered with various insects, big and small. "And why do we have to lie here of all places?"

"Moss hides our scent from the demons. But unlike the Wisteria flower, it doesn't harm them. And the reason why we don't attack head on," Daiki quieted down when one of the demons closed in on them. Soon, the demon was going to step onto the open terrain before them. "usually we'd search with lanterns, or wait in specific bases – look," Daiki pointed at one of the trees, and in the dim moonlight, a square like silhouette barely revealed itself from behind the thick branches. "that's one of the bases. But tonight, the moonlight is in our favour. We can surprise the passing demons and assassinate them."

"Why would you need to assassinate them? They're demons, you just cut their head off when you see one."

"This is different." Daiki whispered in a more aggressive tone, making sure Shinjuro understood the seriousness of their mission. "I don't know how it is with the demons south from here, but in the North, near the borders, ever since we were attacked a month ago, they started working together. Making plans. Sabotaging our bases."

'_I'm also starting to worry they know about my sixth sense._ _It would explain why they began forming in such high numbers once I'd gotten ill, when before, fear kept them away from the North_.'

"Seriously?" He was in disbelief. "Demons, working together? I fought pairs before, but never a whole group."

"I had a hard time believing it at first too – look," the red silhouette was coming closer. "I'll say more later, it's coming. When I signal, you attack."

"Signal, what-"

From within the shadowy shapes of bushes and leaves, the red silhouette vanished as the demon made its physical appearance. Its eyes were sharp and gleaming, and its presence reeked with demonic and human blood – no doubt from all the humans it had eaten.

But it hadn't looked like a particularly dangerous demon. It was gory, it was ugly, but not something two Hashiras couldn't handle with ease.

Daiki and Shinjuro exchanged glances, with the elder placing his gloved finger on his lips, before taking out a small dagger from beneath his black haori. Shinjuro was confused when Daiki pushed his saber into his arms.

'_**First style: Silent Breath.'**_ One of the first breathing techniques, derived from the Frost Breath that Daiki learnt from his father.

He spun the long dagger in his palm, the nichirin metal shining in the moonlight.

_Click._

Daiki pressed on a hidden mechanism bellow his ring finger and activated it.

'_**Fourth style: Frostbite.'**_

Cold smoke slowly began to seep from the blade as icy particles formed on its surface. This was the reason why Daiki had to wear gloves.

As soon as he was within range, and when the demon seemed most vulnerable, with its back exposed and arms calmly placed on its sides, Daiki jumped on its back.

"_**Agh-!"**_ Before the demon could scream, Daiki slashed its vocal cords.

He spared no second and stabbed the demon in its jaw, and using his free hand, he slammed its mouth together. Shocked, the demon stood still and gaped with wide, yellow eyes, desperately gurgling for air.

_Ksssss…_

"_**-!"**_ Its mouth and vocals were now frozen over. The demon's final attempts were to attack. It clawed behind its back but it was a futile attempt. Daiki jumped away, the demon's slow swing was nothing compared to his spar with Shinjuro.

'_Now.'_ Daiki signalled the Flame Pillar to deal the final blow, a finger still firmly placed to his lips.

The Flame Pillar soared through the sky and with a swift and silent swing, cut off the demon's head. Daiki could barely hear the sound of metal cutting through flesh, before the demon's body vanished completely.

"What the hell was that." Shinjuro still whispered, going to pick up the dagger.

"Don't touch the metal, it'll freeze your fingers."

"… did you freeze its mouth together with that move?" Shinjuro stopped just enough to turn for the handle before returning the dagger to Daiki. "That's a nice trick. Where did you get that mechanism?"

"Our family doesn't only specialise in demon slaying – we also have doctors, technicians. They're the ones who finish the blades, once they arrive from the swordsmiths. But I must say…" Daiki changed the subject – he could talk about his family professions for hours. He doubts he himself knew everything –it was just too big of a family. "that was not a flashy move at all, Rengoku. I didn't have you for a silent killer."

"You surprised me with this whole assassination process, but I know how to adapt too." He rubbed his nose almost obnoxiously, though again, Daiki found his actions endearing.

"Hm. Now give me back my sword."

"…" Shinjuro owlishly looked at his empty belt, and at his own sheathed katana he was holding.

"You left my sword in the dark, surrounded by demons?" Daiki raised his brow. In all honesty, the other two demons were still hundreds of feet away, so they weren't in any danger, but it was fun messing with the Flame Pillar.

"…"

Daiki fetched his saber without a word, sighing in disappointment at the younger man's carelessness.

"Where the hell was I supposed to put it? I don't have additional holsters in my belt!" Shinjuro followed Daiki, whispering furiously.

"'I know how to adapt', he says."

"Don't mock me, old man!"

…

Daiki and Shinjuro followed the second demon on its tail. Maybe an hour had passed, and the ever impatient Flame Pillar was puffing and sighing through the whole operation. It was getting on Daiki's nerves.

"Remind me, why do we have to be so quiet again?" Shinjuro scoffed.

"Like I said before, this is special." Daiki hated repeating himself. If Shinjuro was a member of his station and still this annoying, he would have received a few slaps over the head already. "We kill the next demon with the same tactic we used on the first, and catch the other one for interrogation."

"Like it'll talk. Let's just slam both bastards to hell as fast as possible and go help the others."

'_I'm the commander here, not you!'_ Daiki shouldn't have gotten mad at that remark. But it'd been a long time since someone actually back-talked to him during a serious mission, and especially someone less than half his age, with a finger rolled far into his ear from boredom, or whatever emotion Shinjuro was hiding himself with.

"We stick with my plan. Demons will die either way, so I don't see why you're so impatient."

"Everything is such mumbo jumbo. You act like you're some _prophet_, with _'sensing'_ demons? Knowing where they are despite not seeing them? _Please._"

"I haven't the time to speak to you about such things. If you'll still be interested in my family lineage after tonight, you're welcomed to our family library in Aomori." Daiki stated, gripping his dagger to prepare for the next attack. "And if you keep wasting your time on such mindless thoughts, you're welcomed to get lost on your way back to the tower."

In the end, Shinjuro followed Daiki's plans through. Despite his back-talking and arrogant personality, Daiki placed these two kills as the smoothest in his life, by far.

"Ok, _'mr. prophet'_. Where's the other one?"

Daiki rolled his eyes at the nickname and pointed behind Shinjuro. "It's closing in, take cover."

The two pillars jumped back into their hiding spot between the moss-covered vines.

"We repeat the same process, but don't aim for the neck."

Nodding, the two fell into silence. Daiki focused on the nearing red silhouette of the demon. He was expecting nothing out of the ordinary.

Fifty meters… forty… twenty before it entered their vision…

On that ten meter mark, it suddenly became huge.

Daiki could _smell_ its disgusting odour.

'_What's that-?'_ Daiki winced at the horrible stench of a rotting corpse. And when the demon revealed itself, Daiki immediately noticed the difference in size between its eight foot form and a human body that dangled behind its back like a sack.

A body of a young woman, worn and torn in places Daiki couldn't begin to describe.

He made sure to calm himself – this demon seemed different from the other two. It was physically bigger and more muscular. Its demonic presence was also stronger. Daiki put his dagger away – the weapon was too small for a prey this big.

"_**Ugh, human bodies rot away too fast."**_ Its voice was low and animalistic, it alone showing how many humans it had consumed to take the shape of such a monster. _**"Where are those two? They should be here by now…"**_

The young woman's dead eyes glinted in the moonlight, her once beautiful black hair tangled and bloodied. The demon tossed her on the other shoulder, and her stained white kimono revealed the hollowness of her torso. Her organs were gone, along with her breast.

It was hard staying calm at the horrifying sight. Daiki gripped his sheathe.

_Click._

'_Fourth style: Frostbite.'_

"_**We'll be left behind…"**_

'_Left behind…? This demon knows something valuable.'_ Daiki waited for the nichirin to reach far below freezing temperatures. He observed the demon, listened to its mumbling if it would reveal any more information.

But all it kept slurring was the taste of the dead woman in its arms. How delicious she was.

"_**Only your face is left unspoiled… I don't want to eat your pretty face…"**_

He heard enough of the demon's disgusting babbling. Daiki unsheathed his sword. He was going to cut off and freeze over its arms and legs, and continue to do so until it wouldn't be able to regenerate.

"Rengoku, I'm going in. Have my back." Daiki waited for the demon to turn its back, but he was surprised when Shinjuro stood up before him.

"Rengoku, stay back. _What are you doing_?" Daiki whispered furiously, trying to grab hold of his arm.

It was like the man couldn't hear him. Daiki saw the fury in those melancholic eyes as they reflected the dead woman's body.

"Don't_-_!"

There was no way Daiki could have reacted fast enough to stop Shinjuro from cutting the demon's head off. The force of the attack left behind a gush of hot wind, and an impression was left in the ground from where the Flame Pillar jumped.

Daiki made cautious strides and gawked hopelessly as the monster's body disappeared.

"… have you any idea what you just did?" Daiki seethed, his fists twitching, because he really wanted to punch Shinjuro. He just cost him the perfect subject for questioning. "We would have killed the demon after the interrogation – so why did you go and kill it_ now_?"

The Flame Pillar hadn't answered him, and went to the battered woman instead. He kneeled and pulled her rotting corpse onto his lap. The smell absolutely stung, but Shinjuro only cradled her closer.

Daiki froze in place, speechless. That was a pose of a defeated man.

He was hit by a flashback of Mayu, of how he held her body, green and thin from her illness.

_Daiki would never forget the hopelessness of that moment. He couldn't protect the love of his life no matter how much money he tossed away or how much he prayed. He felt like the most useless man in the world._

'_You're a Rengoku, a warrior, a pillar! Pillars are supposed to be the strongest, physically and emotionally!' _But Daiki was furious not at Shinjuro, but at himself for believing the man's personal issues wouldn't interfere with the mission.

"You were the one that told me – you can't save everyone." Daiki hoisted his saber back to his belt.

Shinjuro's back was turned, but Daiki still looked away, respecting the warrior's time of vulnerability.

Among the lines of curses and apologies Shinjuro was mumbling, Daiki was certain he heard a name.

_Ruka._

…

Once they'd buried the poor woman and both men said their prayers, Daiki accompanied Shinjuro back to the tower. The elder wouldn't allow him to fight any longer, and the Flame Pillar hadn't objected. It was as if all the energy he still had left was drained from him.

"I'm still mad at you for messing up," Daiki stated light-heartedly and patted Shinjuro on his back. "but I'll get another chance on the south side. What's important is that we finished our main objective – killing those three demons. And without having to chase any of them? Your help was appreciated."

Daiki doubted those encouraging words would help him. He wondered if he even understood anything. The Flame Pillar's eyes were hollow.

Upon their entrance into the Hiiragi tower, Sone appeared with another slayer by her side – they offered water and rice-balls to both of the Hashira, but Shinjuro refused.

"I'm fine." He spat and crossed his arms. He put on a great act, but only Daiki noticed the dullness of his voice.

"Any reported casualties among our members?" asked the commander, returning his emptied glass.

"None that would need immediate medical attention, but they are still searching for the demons. For now, they managed to spot only two."

Daiki sighed from relief, though he masked his worry with the utmost professionalism.

Sone took a small stack of papers from her accompanying slayer. "You should go there as soon as possible, Sir, they need your help."

He nodded. "One more thing, Sone."

"Sir?"

Daiki looked at Shinjuro for a moment longer, which made the blond flinch.

"What." He was visibly nervous from the elder's stare. Most definitely because of what had happened with their last demon encounter.

Making sure his next decision would be the right one, Daiki spoke loudly and clearly, making sure Shinjuro knew he was being serious.

"Write a letter to Ubuyashiki – tell him that the Hiiragi members will deliver the rest of the medicine."

"What are you doing, old man?" the Flame Pillar snapped out of his shocked daze. He was mad, or acted so in his usual Rengoku fashion, but some part of his voice quivered. "You can't just make these decisions on a whim."

"They're not on a whim. I firmly believe that's the best decision. You've delivered the medicine, obtained my blood samples and Miss Sone will write a report on my health. Once that's finished, you may leave whenever you wish. A member will escort you to Aomori."

"Look, I'll finish this, I have to, it's _my_ duty, not yours." Shinjuro was lying to himself. He was desperate to place duty first, but Daiki had seen the pit of his psychological state.

Ruka. A woman who was as dear to him as Mayu was to Daiki, waited for him at home in her final hours, and that was something Daiki was certain of.

He grabbed Shinjuro's shoulder and whispered so only he would be able to hear. "Take this chance. _Go to her_."

'_Before it's too late.'_

It was in that momentary eye-contact when Daiki revealed to Shinjuro that he _knew_, and he understood.

It was that emotion of helplessness that connected the two men, even though they exchanged no words about their pasts.

'_You won't forgive yourself if you don't stay by her side until the very last moment.'_

The Flame Pillar froze in place, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Daiki patted his shoulder one final time before turning towards the tower's exit.

"It was a pleasure working with you, Rengoku. I wish you the best of luck." With a final nod of farewell, Daiki marched south, focusing on his total concentration breathing for the upcoming battle.

He placed his feelings of pity aside. Shinjuro's life would not be an easy one, but it was up to the man himself to decide how he'd go about it.

He only hoped the Flame Pillar would make it home in time.

…

By the time Daiki returned from his second shift, Shinjuro was gone.

* * *

'Ruka' means "bright blue flower"...

;_;


	13. The Beginning of the End

It's been a very long time since I've last updated something... hope you all doing fine. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

This is the song I listened to... a bit weebish but it fitted: /vHL3m4PxSlE

* * *

**April 17th, 1904.'**

"Team One, surround the entrance!"

Five members of the Hiiragi station dashed forward, katanas ready to strike down the hiding enemy.

"Team Two, prepare oil and fire!" Sone raised her voice and sword.

Five more members ran with vases of black liquid and lit torches.

Silence.

Daiki could sense the demons' restlessness. Their red silhouettes shifted beneath the surface, their dead hearts fastened with the rising wind.

They knew what was to follow, yet they would rather hide than face an immediate death by a slayer's sword.

"Release!" With an encouraging slash from commander Sone, the torches and vases fell into the abyss.

**BOOM.**

The explosion flung out pieces of rock, debris and body parts.

"Hear them scream!" laughed the young slayer, Kanai, Tsukasa's grieving friend. Ever since his murder approximately 89 days ago, Daiki counted from the reports, the boy had lost the sparkle of youthful wonder. Now, the only time his eyes ever shone was at the sound of screaming demons.

As much as Daiki felt the same, he did not like such a young soul lose itself to the depths of hatred.

"You were right, sir, there must be dozens of them in the ground! They were hiding from us. They're afraid of us!"

"What are you doing?" Sone marched to Kanai, her hand raised, ready to slap him if he would not obey. "Return to your position, they're going to attack!"

Kanai apologized and scurried off. Daiki kept his sword in his sheathe, observing his members instead of joining the fight with a calm facade. He would intervene if necessary, but with Sone's presence, Daiki was certain he wouldn't be needed.

"Don't take too long, Sone. There's work in the tower."

"Sir." Sone nodded, never turning from the blazing hellhole of screaming demons.

Arms. Legs. Torsos and heads. Everything crawled or jumped out of the ground. The smell of burning flesh spread with the demons' attacks. They were savage and without any order.

It was no wonder the slayers defeated them systematically and without casualties. If anything, the worst injury was a burn from the explosion.

"Date, Fuse. Let's go in." Daiki covered his mouth with a cloth.

"Sir!" Two of the strongest slayers of the team joined Daiki beneath the destroyed sinkhole.

Barely a minute into the search the two already began coughing.

"If you ever wish to become frost users, I expect you to control your breathing at all times." Daiki scoffed. "Stay close. I'll send out the signal."

Daiki closed his eyes and focused.

In the far corner of the cave system, a red dot quivered. The demon was injured.

"There's always one member of a group who is the bigger coward," he pointed at the direction. "Hundred meters, turn left at the second tunnel. Remember, control your breathing so you don't suffocate."

Date and Fuse jumped into the darkness of the cavern.

Daiki scavenged the area. Piles of bones were scattered across all corners, some burnt and shattered from the explosion. He kneeled to a particularly large pile and gazed at what was left of a human's skull. As the smoke cleared, the moonlight seeped through.

The demons' hunt had been fresh. Flesh stuck to the remaining bones, some burnt from the fire. Daiki wanted to be fuelled by rage, but all he experienced was the dullness of hopelessness.

If only there was a way to save them.

"I shouldn't say a proper prayer, for I'm not worthy of God's words. But maybe by miracle they can reach him, so you can rest in peace." Daiki preached and clenched his palms together.

"O God of spirits and of all flesh, Who hast trampled down death and overthrown the Devil…"

Moment passed before Date and Fuse returned, high on adrenaline and ready to follow their commander's next orders. "Sir, we've killed the demon. Are there any more-"

"Kneel." Daiki grunted, not moving from his position.

"Sir…?"

"Pray for purification. This place will soon become a grave for the fallen."

The two slayers became deathly silent, noticing what their commander was kneeling to. They removed their swords and placed them on the ground. They mimicked Daiki even though neither of them held any faith.

"Thine all-holy, good, and life-creating Spirit, if you can hear me, show the fallen a path to peace and salvation. Amen." Daiki finished with a cross.

"Amen."

Returning to the surface, everyone awaited their next order. Sone had already placed the men in line. "Sir?"

"Do we have any explosives left?" Daiki inquired with his usual stoic façade.

"Some." Sone wanted to ask why, but by the sombre expressions of Date and Fuse, who realised how many people they were unable to save, she knew what to do. Sone raised her arm: "Prepare oil and fire! We're shutting the entrance!"

"Yes ma'am!"

…

The hike to the tower was gruelling. As it should be. The tower wasn't placed in the most isolated and overgrown forest in Japan for no reason.

If it was a difficulty to find for the Demon Slayers, then it would be impossible for the demons.

'Yet that bastard still hasn't been found. The mist is still here, haunting me every fucking day and night. The scum is mocking me. I'm sure of it!'

The demon doctor managed to figure out its power – of deceit. The red mist was no mystery, yet Daiki despised the sickly feeling his gut got every time he thought back on how overwhelming it was before he received Tamayo's medicine.

He was still unable to write the perfect medical report, because he couldn't describe the pain with words.

'An immense pressure trying to burst my brain.' Could be one. 'Boiling toxins in my eyes.' Another.

'But no pain compares to my fury.'

"Sir," Sone interrupted his scattered thoughts. They've finally reached the tower, and just before dawn. The sky was growing orange. Daiki waited for everyone to gather atop of the hill.

Daiki took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Again, I applaud you for your voluntary efforts. Of course, you'll be rewarded with a doubled salary." Daiki spoke to his tired members. "Regain your energy, then you can return home."

"Yes sir!" they saluted him and after an hours' long mission, relaxed their shoulders.

"Date, Fuse, Sone." Daiki stopped the three from entering the main hall.

"Sir?" The three of the most promising members stood before him in a line. All candidates to becoming a frost breath user. While Sone's face seemed rested, because she had gotten used to the responsibilities of a second commander, Date and Fuse looked like the walking dead.

"Sone, you are in charge of the station today."

"Yes, of course. Because of your family meeting…" Sone mumbled, though her tough exterior softened with worry. Date and Fuse couldn't tell the difference but Daiki tried not to show how perplexed he was by her worry.

Her thoughts were like an opened book with how expressive her eyes were. 'Why have they called you? What was written in the letter? Who was that man with the mask?'

Last week, Daiki received an envelope with the Hiiragi family crest. That was a heart-stopping moment.

It was serious. The last time Daiki received such a letter was on the day he was appointed as the station leader.

It wasn't delivered by a crow or a Kakushi, but their family messenger. Daiki was used to a Kakushi's uniform, with their eyes exposed enough to show their emotions.

The Hiiragi messengers were different. They wore black cloth and silver masks of a peculiar shape. The coloured metal was warped into whatever expression each messenger desired.

For whatever reason, this messenger had the mask warped in terror, making it look rather menacing, even to Daiki.

The messenger said nothing and left as soon as he delivered the letter. He came at a time when no one was around to see them during the exchange.

Daiki knew very little of the messengers, despite being a member of the Hiiragi family. They lived a life of complete secrecy and isolation, only connected to the family through the leader. They knew everything, but no one knew anything about them.

Daiki read the letter in his office. He made it seem like it was any other report so Sone wouldn't get suspicious. He didn't like hiding things from her, it was unprofessional.

But upon reading the content of the letter, Daiki knew this wasn't information ready to be seen by the world.

The message was short and curt and every word stabbed like a knife.

'"… as the leader of the West Hiiragi Station, you are held responsible for the damage caused to the station, to the estate and to the Hiiragi name. And to the decision of our members, we've decided-"'

Daiki needn't read the letter to the signature. He knew how it was going to end. He knew that bastard was going to do this.

He deserved it. He let the demon escape. He let Tsukasa die a brutal death. He should have stopped this. Done anything. Anything.

Sone's eyes were judging.

The elder couldn't tell her what was in the letter. Not yet, not until he met the Hiiragi leader in person. Not until it was made official.

But there was so much to do. So much at stake only he himself believed would be capable of fixing.

Instead, Sone's expression turned rigid and she concealed her emotions, as a commander should. "Must you leave so early in the morning? You haven't had breakfast yet."

"I'll eat on the way to the stables."

"I will prepare it." Sone bowed before leaving for the kitchen. Daiki's gaze hadn't left her until he was interrupted by Fuse, the taller of the two remaining slayers.

"Sir, you wanted us…?"

"Yes." Daiki snapped out of his daze. He'd been getting too spacious. "Follow me."

Date and Fuse followed Daiki to the back of the tower. Barely visible between the thick moss was a trap door, closed but not locked. Opening it, he was hit by a scent of blood and sweat which only made his two members flinch.

They hadn't dared question their commander. This was part of their training.

They walked into the darkness of the dungeon and Daiki closed the door behind him. The walls were decorated in old and burning torches, but their heat couldn't warm the chilly air of the hallway.

"I hoped we wouldn't have to do this today…"

"Stop complaining Fuse." The two sleep-deprived slayers grumbled among themselves, hating how their throats and eyes stung from the freezing and rancid air.

Once they've reached the end of the hallway and the darkest part of the dungeon, Daiki greeted the guards of the cell.

"Has it wakened?"

"No Sir. It's still regenerating.

While the four slayers waited outside, Daiki unlocked the cell and stepped inside.

The room was slippery from decay and moisture. His boots squeaked against the stone and blood-covered floor. The darkness morphed any figure into a blob of black. Complete darkness was every demon's sanctuary.

Without hesitation, Daiki gripped the battered demon's hair and pulled hard enough to wake it.

**"Gh…"**

"Morning."

At the sound of Daiki's voice, the demon immediately flinched. Its eyes widened and it franticly looked around. Being so close and held only by a loose chain, one would question why the demon wouldn't go for Daiki's neck.

It would, if it had any teeth. Instead it glared.

"The more times you pull them out, the longer it takes for them to regenerate. Well," Daiki shook the monster's head before annoyingly tossing it to the side. "We'll have plenty of time to talk later. You'll talk very soon, won't you, demon?" Daiki mocked, knowing by now, after so many days of repetitive torture, what got this particularly prideful demon's nerves boiling.

Though it was unable to speak coherent words, it used its remaining strength to spit at Daiki's boot.

Of course Daiki retaliated by kicking the bastard like a soccer ball.

Even Date, Fuse and the other two slayers flinched at the sadism their commander was displaying. Though after weeks of observing such cruel treatment, they realised why Daiki tortured the way he did.

Number one was for answers. They desperately needed answers about the attack. About the demon of the red mist. If, God have mercy on them…

Muzan played a part in the attack. If any indication revealed that the king of demons made his presence near Aomori, all the Pillars and slayers of the South would have to be called.

No one wanted to think of such a catastrophe to take place.

Two was to show them that demons deserved no mercy, that even immense cruelty was acceptable.

Three… might have been out of pure enjoyment. Daiki was aware of his untamed hatred for demons and how it almost governed his very being, but he wasn't aware of how his weakness surfaced.

How his eyes gleamed.

"I'll be back very soon, demon…" Daiki rubbed his boot against the tattered cloth of the devil's shirt and walked out of the cell as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As if torturing was something he was used to.

He gave Fuse the keys. "Lock the cell. Don't interact with it. Only listen."

"Sir." Date and Fuse saluted. Daiki immediately noticed how their before slouched forms were now rigid.

Maybe they feared he would torture the demon in front of them and force them to watch again?

'Foolish. They'll never become frost breath users with such soft hearts and stomachs.'

With the shift exchange, Daiki was finished with the Station for today and was free to go to the Hiiragi estate. Sone waited for him at the tower's exit, a box prepared for his journey.

"Thank you."

"Sir. Before you go, I…" Sone stopped, wanting to bite her lip. Instead she looked directly into Daiki's eyes, her dark blue voids searching for answers he wouldn't give. "What was in that letter. I have the right to know."

"… nothing of importance. If it was that dire, I would tell you." Daiki scoffed and turned away. "Nothing you should concern yourself with until I'm back."

Sone didn't believe him.

"Watch over the station and make sure Date and Fuse don't fall asleep. If they do, punish them."

"Sir." Sone saluted, but she was not satisfied with the answer. She showed that by marching away with heavy strides.

Like before, Daiki stared until Sone disappeared. He then began walking down the hill, away from the tower.

He felt his anger rising.

He was losing control.

But he was so mad because nothing went his way. Like nothing he did or had been doing for the past fifty-two years mattered to anyone.

Daiki pulled out the crumbled envelope sent by the Hiiragi family and read it furiously. He was alone now, he could growl and curse and lose his mind.

His family never appreciated him. Never honoured the blood he shared with their father.

They always had him for an obedient mutt, despite being the eldest among all of them.

"…And to the decision of our members, we've decided to honour our code of discipline and punishment. You are ordered to present yourself before the leader, where you will remove your crest,"

Daiki ripped the paper until there was nothing left of it.

"and be revoked from your commanding position."


	14. Dogs of Society

_"War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, the lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade."_

_-Percy Bysshe Shelley_

* * *

_This is the song I've listened to, while writing this... rather complicated chapter I would say. It doesn't get any easier._

**_Dark Ambient Melodies (In Quantum for Cryo Chamber)_**

* * *

Daiki hadn't realised how tightly he'd been gripping the pommel of his saber until the pressure turned into a numbing pain.

He stared at it and unsheathed it. The scratching metal urged him to take a stance.

'Removed and revoked.'

Were they going to take away his sword too? His pride and the symbol of a demon slayer?

He would never let that happen without a fight. His 'code' and 'promise' be damned. This was beyond his respect for the Ubuyashikis – it was a personal matter.

Daiki wouldn't kill anyone, he wasn't a murderer. But he would make them bleed.

Upon reaching the stables, Daiki expected to have a lone horse prepared. Its old stable master by the name of Tomo sat by the exit of her small cottage. And next to her…

A messenger. Daiki gritted his teeth.

Despite not having the best eyesight, Tomo recognized the elder from his distinct black attire and white beard.

"You've silenced the birds with your anger, Daiki. What's gotten you into such a sour mood? Not that you aren't always sullen…" Tomo's old eyes shifted between the two men, she had realised the rising tension. "This mysterious man has been waiting for you for a good hour now. I reckon you two aren't on friendly terms…"

"What are you doing here?" Daiki spat at the messenger, who held himself firm on his raven horse. It was the same one from a week ago, with his mask of terror. Like another aspect of Daiki's laughable life, it mocked him.

'This is your end.'

"Did they think I wouldn't respond to the letter? Are those siblings of mine so dense that they had to send their dog?" he scoffed, tossing the masked man an irritated glare before jumping on his own raven horse. "Not that you'd be much of a challenge. I bet you aren't even allowed to bark."

Like the previous week, the eerie man stayed silent. Even his breathing was barely noticeable, and Daiki wondered whether he'd been trained in the Frost Breath technique.

"When will you be back?" Tomo yelled and slowly stood up from her wooden stool.

"Before nightfall. Sone will accompany you soon." Daiki gripped the reins and readied himself for a gallop.

"Kikio Sone…! Oh, she's always a nice person to converse with. I'll look forward to that!" Tomo chuckled, before going about her business at the stables.

Without another word, the two men rode their horses through the forest roads. Daiki hadn't been particularly fast – he forced himself to relax and tried to ignore the set of annoying hooves only a few feet behind him. The messenger hadn't cared for personal space to ensure Daiki wouldn't try to gallop into a sprint and run away.

Once they had reached an open field, a large space dividing the wild forest and the beginning of Aomori's farmlands, Daiki spotted a small pond behind a lone tree. He guided his stallion beneath the shade and jumped off.

"They get thirsty. Let it rest. The road ahead is still long."

"…" Though resilience was needed to be considered a good soldier, even Daiki couldn't ignore the heat of the burning sun. It was spring, but it felt like the beginning of summer. The messenger must have been hot beneath his iron mask and black attire, but he stayed unphased.

"Suit yourself."

The old demon slayer went about his business. He pampered his stallion a bit, found himself forgetting about the damnable Hiiragi letter and enjoyed the simplicity of tending to the animal. Horses had always been his favourite.

"… stop staring." Daiki could feel the messenger's glare on his back. He must have been angry from spending so much time gushing over the animal, instead of moving forward.

It was only then that Daiki noticed, so beneath the messenger's vision, a pair of red eyes from within the dark holes of his mask.

Something within him turned cold. Not fear or anything alike, but a fleeting emotion of uneasiness and an overwhelming feeling of disgust.

"Look away, messenger. Your filthy eyes stain me."

Surprisingly, the man passed a grunt of annoyance, as if he had been offended or surprised by Daiki's remark. The elder hadn't stopped there.

"Killing a demon is like ridding of filth. Killing another man makes you filth. So I'm warning you," Daiki jumped on his horse and closed the distance between his enemy. "I may be bound from killing humans, but that excludes murderers like you."

"..." As always, the messenger stayed silent.

The rice paddies and the atmosphere of the whole land was pleasant. The farmers went about their day, though occasionally their eyes would wander at the two black-cladded men and their majestic stallions. Daiki and the messenger must have come off as nobilities with how elegantly they galloped.

The sun was almost in the centre of the sky before they made it to the first big crossroad. On the right was Aomori city, and on the left, a forest of man-grown wisteria trees. Daiki turned left with dread – a few more minutes and he'd be at the mansion.

The forest was thick and the ground coloured in purple. They turned right and continued up a hill, before finally coming to a Baroque-designed gate. Like with most mansions, the right side of the pillar had a golden tablet – The Hiiragi estate.

Two guards appeared before them, dressed in dark blue uniforms, one holding a bayonet and the other a register.

"Identification." Their words were directed at Daiki only, while the messenger passed the gate and disappeared within the wisteria flowers.

"Daiki Hiiragi, eldest son of Isao and Yoru." He rolled his eyes at their seriousness, as if they hadn't known who he was. The old slayer gave the two no time to move aside as he jumped off his horse and shoved the reins into their hands. "Treat him well, give him water and some food. I'll be back soon."

Daiki's memories began to flow, unwillingly. Of his time as a boy, when he trained with his father. Those were good times, not of peace and fun, but when he still had the privilege of looking up to someone.

His body turned right and went down a set of stone-carved stairs which he followed from memory. Beneath the shade of a great oak was a stone tablet, and it read:

**'(1807-1852) - Isao Mikhail Hiiragi – a great leader and father'**

The elder kneeled and prayed, as it was custom to greet the deceased. Especially his father, the great man he looked up to till this day, and whose moral values he upheld even five decades after his passing. Sometimes, if Daiki really focused, he could remember the sound of his voice.

Though not even moments into his prayer, he was interrupted by a slow pattern of footsteps coming from behind him.

"I knew you would come here." It was a voice he recognized.

"Tora." An old woman in her sixties sat beside him. Her hair was as white as snow, and her eyes were like a reflection of his own. She mimicked Daiki's form and joined him.

After the first prayer, she asked. "Do you still blame yourself for his death?"

That was not something he was going to answer. Not because of lack of trust, but because it was a topic that made him tired, very quickly. And he mustn't be tired now.

"The saying holds - wounds heal with time." He sighed before picking himself up, then offered his hand to the woman, which she took. "How have you been, Tora?"

For a moment, she stared at him with an unreadable expression. Then without a warning, she slapped him hard across the cheek.

Daiki was shocked by the force of it, and because he hadn't been slapped by anyone like that in a long time. So long ago he barely remembered it ever happening.

"Why did you-?"

"I should toss you another one – I've written to you every week for the past three months and you only replied once?!" Her fury showed on her reddening complexion.

"I was busy - " he was cut short by another slap on the shoulder.

"Too busy to write your sister!?"

Daiki hated apologizing, but out of all his siblings, he did not want to lose what little family connection he had.

"I shouldn't really feel remorse for doing my job." Daiki frowned in his defence. "But if it will make you feel better, I guess I have to apolo-"

Tora's sudden embrace surprised him and all he could do was stand like a statue. It felt awfully weird to be hugged so tightly or hugged at all. But he hadn't pushed her away, not even when she took his hand.

"I was worried about you!" She shook him, scolding. "Hyosuke barely told me anything about what happened to you at the station!"

"But you must know of the demon? I would think half of the fever-induced Hiiragis would give it away."

"After we received dr. Tamayo's medicine, we went to analyse it with the scientists straight away."

"I hope you don't start giving me details, Tora. The thing is disgusting to consume."

"Yes I know, but this will interest you for sure!" She waved his hand around, appearing excited. Like of the time when she was a little girl, explaining how she caught a wild rabbit. "Most of the herbs used in the medicine weren't even in our herbarium, but what surprised me the most was to find blood in the mixture. And get this… not just any blood, but demon blood! Demonic blood had always had negative effects on the human body, so I don't understand how the doctor changed it into a healing factor-"

Only a select few demon slayers and officials were allowed to know the true origins of Tamayo. It was something she wished for herself, and Daiki wouldn't had cared much for her wish, if the Ubuyashiki leader hadn't pressured him. It had something to do with keeping her identity safer…

"I wouldn't know. And I told you I didn't want to know." Daiki's raised brows stopped her. His sister always loved overexplaining things, even when she was specifically asked not to.

"Anyways, I heard Hayato resigned. Where is he?" He'd rather change the subject. He wasn't interested in Tora's discoveries at the moment, especially since she tended to talk about them for hours.

Tora's frown deepened the wrinkles on her skin, but she also became angry at her brother's aloofness. "Yes. I did want to inquire… if you wish to see him, he's in the medical facility."

"Still?" Daiki scoffed. It was so common of Hayato to exaggerate on his recovery time. "It's been more than three months since the attack, and the medicine should be working by now… he's probably just lazing about…"

"Haven't you been told?" Tora's eyes widened.

"Told what?"

"The reason why Hayato can't return to his duties is because he suffered from a 'trombotic stroke'.

Daiki's heart stopped.

"There's nothing my staff, or Tamayo's medicine, can do. We doubt he'll ever move properly again."

The elder found himself guided to the medical facility. He was… nervous. Although his station was, despite being the centre of the demon's attack, for the most part undamaged, he received reports from others and how they suffered heavier casualties. Injuries, trauma and death.

Daiki was so concerned he hadn't noticed Tora's hand still firmly holding his own. He yanked it away before they entered the building.

"Oh?" she chuckled. "And here I thought you've gotten past your bashfulness…"

"Your comments would make any grown man feel uncomfortable."

Instead of teasing further, his younger sister led him into the facility, and immediately, the hallways echoed with pained moans and cries. They entered through the first door. The beds and ground were filled with demon slayers… and villagers. Together, there must have been over thirty people.

"Years ago, Hyosuke mocked my idea of enlarging the medical branch. Said it was a waste of resources, and that we were not the Butterfly Estate. It's a good thing I went against his orders."

"They're not all Hiiragi members…" his head turned in all directions, careful not to step on anyone. Black uniforms were mixed between the Ubuyashiki and Hiiragi slayers, the only thing separating them a small cross on their breast pocket. "And why are there so many of them? And why are there other citizens…?"

"The rising of demons around our area had forced some of the slayers from the south to come north. They followed Ubuyashiki's orders. And the growing number of orphans, along with injured families, was staggering. The Kakushi weren't enough. We had to take them in."

Deep within his chest, a familiar feeling of guilt stabbed him.

In the three months, Daiki hadn't really met any victims of demonic attacks, besides the corpse of the woman he'd buried with Rengoku. But a veteran like him shouldn't be phased, he'd seen dismembered bodies, or piles of barely alive people so injured they'd call for death to take them.

But the sight of destroyed families was always difficult. He had to look away from their crying eyes, else his shame would overwhelm him. Not because he couldn't protect them, but because he barely gave the victims any thought, too overwhelmed with his 'role as commander' and 'too busy' of a schedule.

His failure as a slayer and as a compassionate human being was evident from this room.

"Why wasn't I notified?"

"Ubuyashiki didn't want to bother you, you were already so busy trying to take control of your area." Staff greeted Tora as one would greet a colleague, without any formalities. "Hyosuke didn't think it'd be necessary either."

In the corner of a private room, he spotted a balding and sickly man in his seventies, on a wheelchair and covered in scars, dressed in nothing but a white, loose robe. He must have been a demon slayer as well. "Who's that? And why does he have a private room?"

Tora's voice trembled. "That's Hayato."

Daiki stopped breathing.

"Go on, I'll give you two some space. Out of all of us, you're closest to him, Daiki. I'm positive he'll be happy to see you…" his sister looked away, hiding her sadness. She was a doctor, it was her role, like a Hiiragi's, to be emotionally unhinged before a crowd of desperate people in need of protection.

Daiki was unsure what to think. With his voice stuck in his throat, he entered the private room and closed the glass door behind him.

"… Hayato?"

'Is that really you?'

Hayato was once strong and charismatic with the most likable smile. This man on a wheelchair seemed so broken – his body was decaying, and his eyes were nothing but voids.

To think this had been caused by one single scoundrel of a demon. The rage fuelled by the thought was agonizing.

To think he could be the one in the wheelchair if he'd gone into the cave instead.

Daiki waited for his head to move, to look at him, but all Hayato could manage was a twitch. Subconsciously, Daiki kneeled down in order to see his face, to better recognize his cousin's features. A part of him still couldn't believe this was actually him.

'I don't want you to see me like this.' his eyes pleaded, and Daiki cursed to think this would be the first time in fifteen years he would see his cousin cry. 'I don't want you to remember me so broken.'

Daiki was never one to be sentimental, and even in heart wrenching moments, he would always stay firm. But this was his cousin, one of the rare people in his life that loved him. Who knew more about him than anyone else in the Hiiragi family – that he wasn't just some lonely, cruel and ill-tempered man with a sad past and bad luck.

"I know it's my fault this happened. I'm not asking for forgiveness…" Daiki grasped Hayato's twitching hand and squeezed.

'How could I be so reckless…'

His throat had started to hurt. "but I give you my word that I'll never stop searching for the bastard that did this."

Daiki questioned if his words even reached Hayato. Blankly the man kept staring as his tears slowly dried from his cheeks. Nothing could sooth his torment. He was stripped of everything that made one human. His voice, his strength, his will and his hope. Because how could he live the end of his days like this? Before a healthy man, now bound to a wheelchair and hand-fed, like a baby…

'I'll avenge you. All of you.' Daiki left his cousin and stared out of the glass window. 'I'll endure how long need be if I can hunt down the devil who did this. By any means necessary...'

"I need to go to Hyosuke. Settle matters once and for all." Encouraged by his rising anger, Daiki was swift to make his way out of the room and to the leader's office. There was no point in feeling sorry and guilty – he had to take action, and fast. The more time he waisted, the more people would suffer.

"I'll go with you." Tora skipped after him, keeping her doctor's coat on. "Hyosuke's calling can't be good. I saw that messenger with you."

'Of course it's not good. He wants to take away my weapon and armour. I can't fight without them.'

"You shouldn't intervene in these matters. The station is out of your expertise."

"I'm the head of the medical branch. And just because I wasn't gifted with the sixth-sense and never fought before, I still have the right to be involved! I'm a Hiiragi too!" she crossed her arms, and it was in her stubbornness that Tora resembled Daiki the most.

He sighed in defeat, realising arguing with his sister was futile. But he found some comfort in her encouragement, even though in the end, he knew Tora won't be able to do anything.

* * *

So sorry for the late update! Do please put in the comments if you want some quick summary of the previous chapters...

And thank you all for any positive reviews, comments... and even constructive criticism! I feel blessed to have people read my stories, and even happier if they enjoy them. Thank you again!


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